Bee Season

It's bee season here at the New Hampshire home. With bee season comes the hum of bees flying about the yard, the sweet taste of honey off the comb, and the honey harvest itself. Today, rainy as it was, the bee buddies were out--my dad and his long time friend Allen. Decked in their bee suits, I peer out to see them brushing away honey bees from the trays and passing them off to the garage--the "safe zone". Having participated in this in the past, I quickly ran upstairs to slip into long pants, making sure to pull my socks over my pants so to protect my ankles from stings. Snatching the extra bee hat, I run outside to watch.
"Whatcha doing Dad?"
"We're trying to shake most of the bees off for tomorrow."
"Oh." I say, "Can I watch?"
"Sure, if you stay in the garage you won't need the hat," he says as I drift out to see clumps of bees cluttered on the ground, on my car, some solo bees looking quite perplexed as to what they are suppose to be doing, let alone where to be, wandering up the driveway.
"Hey Mol, would you mind getting me some Benadryl?" Dad asks.
"Sure; did you get stung?"
"Aw tons of times at the ankles. They're clever bees this year."
I chuckle as I run back into the house, glad my mom, who took my dad to the ER last time for anaphylactic shock, wasn't home to hear that one, despite my dad's newly developed love for allergy shots. Tomorrow if he makes it through today without too big of a reaction, will be the honey harvest.