Wolf Lake

Chapter 1

“--COOL SHADE STUNNER, YEAH I OWE IT TO MY MOTHER, 

HOT LIKE SUMMER, YEAH I’M MAKING YOU SWEAT LIKE TH ---”

“Noo…” I mumble, jolting awake from a dream and fumbling around for the alarm that is placed just out of reach on the bedside table. Today’s Greatest Hits 92.5 continues to blare loudly into my dark room to my total vexation. 5:30 in the morning is still too early to get up… no matter how many times I have done it. I resentfully stick my legs out from under the blanket, hissing as my feet touched the cold floorboards. I love Fall…. I love sleeping with my windows open and bundling the comforter around me as the chilly night air fills the room every night, but mornings are hard for me. Harder when morning means leaving my joyfully warm blanket cocoon. 

I wake up well before dawn every morning in order to fit in at least an hour or so of gym-time  before the sun comes up. I quickly figured out that if I don't prioritize myself and get up to go to the gym first thing in the morning, I wont find or make the time for myself to go during the rest of the day. Something else always manages to come up that requires my attention. So I am always up before the sun.

During the summer months, the sun begins to rise as early as 5:20-- so those are some painfully early mornings. But now that we are edging towards the end of August, the sunrise isn’t until after 7. This means “sleeping in” for me. A couple extra glorious hours in bed, snuggled up under the covers. What could possibly be worth getting up so early every morning? Bees. Adorable, fuzzy, honey-making wonders. 

My dad is one of the most well-respected Apiarists in the state. He has been beekeeping for over 30 years and I have been helping him every day since I was 10 years old. We also perform Bee Rescue. My dad and I help people with bee removal when a hive has found itself in a less-than-desirable location, such as the walls or floors of a home, the trunk of a car, or one of my favorite rescues: a church bell. The bees are removed alive and unharmed and relocated to one of our resident hives. We normally keep between 15-25 hives at a given time, each one unique and has a tendency of keeping us on our toes. 

The end of summer has us entering into our prime harvesting season. Most of the hives are now full of capped honey, sealed and ready to be eaten. If you harvest the honey too soon, the combs will not be sealed properly yet and there will be too much water in the honey, and unfortunately it will ferment on you if you try to store it. However, if we wait too long, the honey will start to harden, getting cold and thick and much harder to extract. My dad and I take immense pride in our hives, making sure we never take honey from a new hive, waiting until the queen and her loyal workers have had at least one successful winter under-wing before we take a harvest. We don’t feel any need to rush our young hives as we have plenty of honey coming from our established queens. As we are reaching the end of summer, during what is called “honey flow” season, some of our large hives are producing over 10 pounds of honey per day. 

I leave the gym covered in a cooling film of sweat from my scalp to the soles of my feet. Oh yeah, I think I’m going to end up regretting that one by the end of the day, I think with a groan and a stretch. The tops of my thighs are like leaded jello. Every day is “leg day” for me, with some other full-body weights and a little cardio to round out the morning. I have to work hard to stay in any sort of shape that isn’t round. I have only recently started to put any sort of respectable time into taking care of myself. I wouldn’t say I was ugly when I was at my heaviest of 235, but at only 5’3”, it was not a healthy weight for me either. I have always been pretty pear shaped--smaller chested with what my mother calls “baby-making” hips. Not that I have any intentions of using them for that… no thank you… kids just are not something I see myself wanting someday, let alone now. I have a pleasant face and now that I have lost some of the weight, I have a well-defined waist. Despite all my efforts though, my thighs and calves just have not gotten the memo yet, so I focus on my strength instead of what the magazines consider beauty, knowing full well I will never be a waifish 5’11” and 105 pounds. 

I look to the east and can see the sky above the horizon warming as dawn arrives. The light wind through the still-green leaves cools the sweat on my t-shirt, sticking it to my side uncomfortably. Maybe I should have grabbed a change of clothes this morning. I shrug and take a few final deep, slow breaths of the cool morning air as I walk down the main street of my small town. I can smell the tantalizing aromas of browned potatoes and breakfast sausages on the breeze coming from the diner down another block. A whiff of sweet rolls hits me and it is almost more than I can bear. I am soo hungry!  

As my stomach rumbles loudly, I start pre-ordering the breakfast I plan to get after doing these morning chores. I will start off with the diner’s specialty: a pancake with charred lemon butter and vanilla bean syrup, then of course some protein: two scrambled eggs, some bacon and sausage; a small side of hash browns--extra crispy, and an entire pot of coffee with cream and sugar. 

What can I say? I love breakfast… 

… and I’m a Wolf.