My Grandpa was a beekeeper. All my uncles at one time worked for him as well as myself and my brother. He had his faults but he was a hard persistent worker and patient when it came to getting things done. At eight years old I was just itching to go on one of those night rides when he would move bees to pollination in Northern California on the almonds or on the cotton. Then one day it happened when he told me he needed me to come along and smoke the beehives as he picked them up and hoe down the weeds when he set them out. So, eight years old and there I was out in the dark with Grandpa puffing smoke into beehives as he used the electric hoist to load them up. I got to learn how to tie down the hives and then got a long nap on the way up north. When we arrived he promptly kicked me out of the truck so he could lay down and sleep. So there I am at 1:am sitting in the weeds crying. LOL. Child abuse I tell you! When the sky began to lighten he came out and had me light up his bee smoker and puff smoke into the hives as he unloaded. Oh, you know I did my job like a champ. Either that or they swarmed out to sting us. Then when the truck was unloaded he gave me a hoe and had me knock down weeds in front of the hives so the bees wouldn't get hassled by the weeds as they came in from foraging.  Then, back on the road, I got to eat a lunch Grandma had made for us as Grandpa drove. It was glorious. On the way back he would stop off at Fort Tejon to nap some more and I would explore the fort. And that was how I spent my summer at eight years old. Best summer ever, except for the sleeping in the weeds which I did get used to. Today I don't have anything left of my Grandpa but sweet memories. He never talked much other than to tell me what my job of the moment was but I enjoyed being with him all the same. Best thing ever was while exploring the fort as he napped I figured out how to use my bee net to collect guppies I used to stock my aquarium at home.