Reverie
Reverie - n. a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream or fantasy; a visionary or impractical idea
"To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,—
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do
If bees are few." - Emily Dickinson
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Deep Breath....Now Jump!
I want to be a beekeeper.
Not just on weekends, but every day. So here I go. Introducing Nectar Bee Supply.
I am lucky to have the most amazing business partners (co-conspirators?) a girl could ever dream about in Karessa Torgerson and Melanie Sorenson. I still can't believe the events that have unfolded to bring us to this point.
There is a strong beekeeping community in Corvallis that includes lots of seasoned pros and even more beginners eager to get started. So many people in our area have talents related to beekeeping - whether they raise queens, construct ventilation boards in their garage, grow bee-friendly plants for seed, or bottle artisan honey. We want to connect all of these people and serve as a clearinghouse for that community.
The hard part is trying to balance unlimited ideas with very limited resources. We don't want to be a discount beekeeping store. We want everything we sell to be useful, durable, and beautiful.
Beekeeping equipment? Definitely. Classes and events? Absolutely. Native pollinators? We like them too. Hive hosting, a honey CSA, a community honey house, our own store...Just wait.
Keep your eyes on us, we have big ideas. Now if you'll excuse me I have to get to work.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley
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