The sky was high, wide, ocean-blue with not a cloud to be seen other than the occasional wisp of cloud sailing in that great wide landscape where the chariot of the sun burned fiercely and roasted us along with all the flora and fauna in view. The land is wide and flat around North Augusta. Arable and productive.

Conditions were also ripening fruit growing in the fields, and we poked about a bit, selecting a variety of ripe, wild berries, tingling our tongues with their sweet tartness.

Even Jack and Jill were thrilled to discover that there were food items to be had at random selection within their reach as they explored this environment that is still so new to them.

Steve prepared a smudge pot, and the fragrance emanating from the source of its flames reminded me of campfires and similar but dark wide open skies speckled with a myriad of stars activated by the occasional shooting star, when we were staying over at Algonquin Park in years past, canoe-camping, and portaging for days of adventure and comfort in that well-beloved environment.

I was given a light, long-sleeved shirt to put over my bare arms, and a beekeeper's netted hat contraption to put over my head. Not the most comfortable of gear to festoon oneself with on such a hot day, but felt to be a rational precaution under the circumstances as we entered the area set aside for the apiaries. Since I was new to the situation, I was the only one so geared.

And as I have complete confidence in Steve and the close presence of any kind of insect doesn't particularly bother me, and I have never shied from the presence of bees, I felt calm enough that the bees were not adversely alerted to the presence of an emotional or threatening disruption. So I stood nearby and watched as he picked the top off one of the apartment hives and began to lift the separation leaves or whatever they're called, with hundreds of bees clinging to them.

I could see the interstices and the waxy surface of the natural interior of the honeycomb, the busyness, the honey being laid down, and heard the circulating bees in the atmosphere entering and exiting the myriad of other hives thrumming the air with their orchestral humming and taking little notice of our presence. The idea is not to be intrusive, of course, but quiet and non-threatening, taking slow, low-level actions not to divert the bee colonies from their activities.

No bees landed on me, and nor was I anxious that none should do so. It seems that mutual respect goes a long way between species.