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It's one of those beautiful cloudless sapphire sky days that make me wish for the longer lasting cold weather of places north of the deep south. Down here we settle for moderate temperatures and celebrate low humidity. It's a day to be outside, not in front of a computer screen, making it even harder than a regular old day is to do any real work. I've used up all my excuses to be outdoors by checking up on the lawncare guys to be sure they haven't missed a spot, throwing away empty boxes on extra long trips to the dumpster, and carefully walking around the yellow jackets' nest just to monitor their activity.

This week I've been calling local beekeepers to find out what can be done with our bees. Because they aren't honey bees, I'm told they aren't good bees. Yellow jackets are aggressive, only average pollinators and, apparently, not for keeping. The term "removal" in the ads means taking away their lives as they know them. That's not sitting well with me, but I'm not the one suffering from a nasty sting on the thing I sit down on.

Cost and attitudes vary. The priciest service took the liability approach. I told her that, as far as I knew, my purchasing manager wasn't seeking legal counsel and she, being a smoker, had medical treatment literally at hand. Another bee specialist recommended moving the picnic table away from the underground nest and attempting to "live harmoniously with the bees" first. I liked his new age flower child style. The third guy was knowledgeable and matter-of-fact. I pictured him in camouflage, and the cell phone he was talking to me on as a walkytalky. He said he prefers to do "his work" at night....but it's probably only because that's when bees sleep. There are more drones in the hive this time of year, he said, and the males don't work (they are just there for sex) putting more stress on the whole colony and primarily on the female heads of the 50 to 100 thousand member household. They are feeling somewhat put out by the larger male population and increased workload, so they go for our lunches and take their frustration out on us by flying up our skirts and pantlegs.

So, now that I have gotten to know these bees personally and have learned more about their living conditions, I feel even more guilty than before about dropping the bomb. I will probably try moving the table a few feet within the small area that's available. I'm hopeful...but not confident. I suspect the smell of my healthfood store mushroom burger (and the Subway and Wendy's meals of the less persnickety eaters in the group) will persuade them to alter their flight path to include down the front of my blouse.

As I'm typing this, a bee has buzzed and bounced in rapid little beatbeatbeats off my window. Appears to be making for my over-ripe banana.

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