This is dedicated to Bill, my bee buddy; and also to Agnes, for coming and helping and for caring about the bees.

Last night, I sent Bill a picture like this and write: "one thing I was wondering is about mites. Would they have had? I see little grey points a bit every where." I did not hear from Bill until the morning.

Early in the morning, just as the day breaks, I find that a bee has come into the house getting a ride somewhere on my clothing. I she holds on tight to the strings of the blind, as she seems to feel that a tough day lies ahead for all of us.
    The phone rings, I take it because Bill has left a message. He asks me whether I got his email. I said no. While still on the phone, he forwarded me what he had sent to the other new-bees last night. It announces disaster: "Our bees have just completed a very stressful few days: the packaging, the shipping and the introduction into a cold hive and current cold weather. Add to that stress, most of the packages, if not all, are quite badly infected with varroa mites." He goes on to say: "In short, we have a situation that could reduce the chances of hive survival to as low as 20%."
   He then describes what has to be done: add honey and drawn comb so the queen can lay eggs (she would be stressed if she couldn't. But we new-bees don't have any. Bill writes: "So, here we go. I've talked this over with Agnes, and we will come up with the drawn comb and frames of capped honey for you."
   I go up and try to tell my wife what is going on. But as I open my mouth, only a big sob comes out and tears run from my eyes. I can't get over the stress on the bees and over the immensity of Bill's caring for these little creatures.
   Bill and Agnes arrive at my home at about 9:20. We are lucky. The sun is out and winds have calmed down – during the nights the were so strong that they shook our house. Bill suggests to get the honey frames and drawn come into the hive right now. And so we do. He also checked my bottom board and I find out that what I thought were mites were only body parts. But there were some mites and Bill taught me how to see them by asking a simple question: "Does this one have legs?" He had asked because he couldn't see well, but to me it as an instruction to look. And I did in fact see the legs on the tiny mite.

About an hour after Bill and Agnes had left, I am leaving to ride to the university. The sun has come out and the wind calmed down. I am wondering what the bees are doing. I drop my bike on the road and walk down in the back yard. I find that many are coming out, doing their little business – they do not poop into their own nest/building – and return. The photo shows how busy they are. When I get home it is cool. They have all returned. But I see that there is a lot of poop all over the outside of the hive. I hope that better days are coming for them.
   Its evening now. My arms are still a bit sore from the reaction to the stings. I don't mind the stings. In fact I had gone back to work the bees with bare hands. I carried some back to the entrance between my fingers. It's just that I have reaction and, on the advice of the office staff, taken some antihistamine because there was so much swelling.