Plan A was to build a top bar bee hive, collect a wild swarm, and live happily ever after. Plan A was easy, was natural, was researched to within an inch of its poor life. Plan A was the golden child. Plan A was doable. Plan A and I were best friends. But there was a problem. Plan A was started too late in the season--past the time the bees are swarming, past the time that a new hive can build itself up to a sustainable level before winter sets in.
Simply put, Plan A didn't stand a chance.
Welcome to Plan B(ee)
Oh, I'm so sorry for that terrible pun, but you know I had to do it!
Plan B is a Langstroth hive full of bees. Plan B is in my backyard. Plan B has scared the living daylights out of me. Plan B and I are staring at each other from across the path. Plan B says "Hi, I'm here, I'm in your face."
Plan B knows what it's doing, but I don't.
But, like so many times in life, Plan B is the route before me and the signpost has my name on it. So, Plan Bee and me, we're gonna be best friends.
(is it just me, or are they all sticking their butts out at me?)