The gods of beekeeping are conspiring against me and Mother Nature is laughing.

Last night when the house was being rocked by the strength of the second mighty midwestern thunderstorm of the week I was not thinking about my bees. I was thinking about my babies and how long it would take for Smoochy and I to scoop them from our bed and dash down to the basement if the sirens started. And though I dreamed vividly about seeing tornadoes swirl out our windows we all stayed safe in bed until morning. Well, if you consider 4:30 the morning rather than the night.


I didn't give the storm much more though until the sun started coming up. I looked out my window and my heart. stopped. beating.

This picture really fails to capture the essence of just how much water is out there. It is staggering. From my vantage point in the living room I thought the front entrance could be standing in water. So the kids and I threw on boots, I strapped Lola to my back and we ran out side to survey the damage.

Um... I think the bees might be OK. I did see one or two fling around.  I'm just lucky the platform didn't slide all the way off the cinderblocks. But it may still be slipping.... This sucks.