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Now that I have a backsplash behind my stove and I’m not spending my time obsessively wiping grease splatters from my freshly painted wall as if I like to clean, I can think about things other than my own chaos, like bees.
Yes, bees. Honeybees, in fact.
I know. It’s exactly zero degrees out as I write this and who thinks of bees at this time of year in the northern tier of the U.S.? Beekeepers, that’s who, and a few cops in Massachusetts, but I’ve gotten ahead of myself mentioning that last bit because I need to say that this all started with a conversation with our bee guy about how bees surv...
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