You were born to do this. You've been taught to handle bees from a young age by your father, as he learned from his father. Taught to give them care, and take the proper tithe of honey every year. You can feel the drone of the hive down to your bones as you kneel, face in netting, and carefully open the hive. Rich, sticky honey pools inside, and you catch a glimpse of her, your queen.
The smells of crushed herbs hangs over you from your garden, as clouds of bees swarm over and around you, not stinging, but curious. The day is hot, the sun warming the hive and the bees are covered in pollen.
Scent notes: pure honeycomb, freshly harvested from the hive; a blooming herb garden full of clary sage, fennel, and thyme; peach blossoms and a touch of medicinal camphor.