I have always wanted bees.

I’ve never been afraid of them. Whenever bees visited my garden, I would say hello and thank them for coming—as one does when tiny airborne contractors arrive and pollinate the vegetables for free.

When I finally decided to become a beekeeper, I did some research and concluded that MY bees deserved the very best.

Naturally, I bought a $1,200 Flow Hive.

Would I do that again?

No.

Was it beautiful? Yes. Did my bees care how much I spent on their luxury condominium? Also no. 🤣

The Best Advice Came After the Shopping

After buying the Flow Hive, I joined our local bee club. The experienced beekeepers recommended starting with two hives so I could compare them. If one colony behaved differently, I would have a better chance of recognizing what was normal, what needed attention, and what was simply bees being bees.

This was excellent advice. It would have been even more excellent before I bought all my equipment.

JOIN A LOCAL BEE CLUB BEFORE BUYING ALL YOUR EQUIPMENT!!!

Because my Flow Hive was an eight-frame setup, I bought a basic eight-frame Langstroth hive for my second colony. Compatible equipment meant I could move frames or boxes between them if necessary.

Hive Two was respectable. Hive One apparently believed there would be quarterly performance bonuses. Those girls were incredible. Every time I gave them a new box, they seemed to respond, “Fine. We’ll fill that too.”

The Flow Hive I Didn’t Actually Flow

During my first season, I did not put the special Flow super on top of the hive. I was new, the bees were alive, and I didn’t want to screw anything up.

Sometimes beginner beekeeping consists largely of standing near a hive thinking: Everything appears to be working. Perhaps I should avoid touching it.

If I knew then what I know now, I might have put the Flow super on Hive One. Those girls were crazy good and accepted new boxes without hesitation.

But I didn’t know that yet—and I owned zero honey supers. Not one. I had deep boxes, so the bees filled deep frames.

Why I’ll Buy Supers Next Time

A honey-filled super weighs approximately 50 pounds. A deep box filled with honey can weigh more than 80 pounds.

That difference may not sound important until you are lifting the boxes—and waiting for all that incredibly thick honey to creep out of those enormous deep frames.

Next year: supers. Lesson learned. 🤣

Weight references: Montana State University Extension and the University of Arkansas Cooperative Extension.

The Great Honey Extraction

When it was finally time for my first harvest, I met with a member of the bee club. Members could use the club’s electric honey extractor—another excellent reason to join.

We removed the wax cappings, loaded those enormous deep frames into the extractor, turned it on, and waited.

Nothing happened.

We waited some more. Still nothing.

The extractor was spinning. The frames were spinning. I assume the honey was inside conducting a closed-door meeting about whether it intended to participate.

Finally—eventually—the honey began creeping out.

Not pouring. Not flowing. Creeping.

What Did I Do Wrong?!

Two more bee-club members came over to investigate. They looked at the honey and said, “Wow! Your honey is so dark and thick!”

My immediate thought was: What did I do wrong?!

When experienced beekeepers gather around your extractor and say “wow,” a beginner does not automatically assume she created something wonderful. A beginner assumes she somehow invented honey gravy.

Fortunately, they tasted it and told me it was really good. Not merely “you probably won’t poison anyone” good—genuinely good.

They explained that honey this dark, thick, and richly flavored was special, and that people would pay good money for it compared with a typical spring harvest.

Within a few minutes, I had gone from wondering what I had done wrong to discovering that my girls may have created the artisanal, small-batch, fancy-pants honey of Diamond Springs. 🤣🍯

The Two-Hour Extraction That Took Four

What was expected to take approximately two hours took closer to four. Eventually, everyone else left and I stayed behind to finish—just me, the machine, and the world’s most stubborn honey.

When it was over, Hive One had produced almost four gallons on my very first harvest.

I was so proud of my girls. The Hive One girls, that is. Hive Two received an honorable mention for attendance. 🐝

What I Would Do Differently

  • Join a local bee club before buying all my equipment!!!
  • Begin with two compatible hives again.
  • Buy honey supers instead of harvesting from deep boxes.
  • Consider using the Flow super on a strong, adventurous colony like Hive One.
  • Keep buckets with spigots ready before extraction day.
  • Allow considerably more time whenever bees, honey, or machinery are involved.
  • Remember that dark honey is not bad honey—even when it exits the extractor at the speed of cold ketchup.

Proud of My Girls

My first harvest was not fast, graceful, or remotely efficient. But it was ours.

I had dreamed about keeping bees for years. Then I brought them home, worried about every decision, bought equipment I didn’t fully understand, declined to use its most expensive feature, and spent four hours waiting for honey to surrender to gravity.

Somehow, at the end of it all, I had almost four gallons of beautiful, dark honey. Hive One’s girls had done something extraordinary.

I was—and still am—so proud of them. 🐝🍯💛