Before we drive away, we look at the bee yard one last time. The girls are quiet again, hanging out on their landing. The bee yard tells a different story: A big corrugated plastic sheet I use as a rain guard on the be roof is laying behind the hive. The hive tool is on the ground, as is a lighter and the straps we hold the box closed with. Along with the stone that keeps the rain guard affixed to the roof. "Fuck it, fuck it and fuck it!" I say. Jim nods in agreement. All of the evidence littering in the bee yard is truly unnecessary. There will be no rain. We never had bears. We won't need the tool until we have big enough balls to open the box again. We will buy a new lighter. It will be another ten days before we open the box again. But in the end, we will be doing magical and amazing things to try and save this hive. I am still not sure if we have, but I am encouraged.