I received a mysterious package in the mail today. Thinking it was an early Christmas box from my overly keen family on the other side of the country, I trudged up the road to the post office, the notice flapping in my mittened hand. I was having bratty thoughts about opening a present or two, despite “Do not open until Dec. 25” warnings.

The nice post office lady scurried to the back room to get my package, plunking a bulky box in front of me that had a Vancouver Island—not an other-side-of-the-country—return address.

Puzzled, I walked off with my curious cargo, and then it hit me.

Bees! My bees had arrived.

I had forgotten about an order I had placed for Mason bees (months ago, when I was in full gardening mode). With my garden sleeping peacefully underneath a frosty blanket, bees were the last thing on my mind.

I carefully carried them home, hoping they hadn’t woken up, mistaking the balmy post office sorting room for the first day of spring.

I was a tiny bit nervous about this possibility, and decided to open the box on the front porch. Pushing away any spontaneous “bee beard” thoughts, I slowly extracted the bee house. Behind a crumpled bit of newspaper was a small jewellery box taped shut.

Inside, a delicate pile of papery pellets lay on the soft cotton. These were hibernating bees? Amazing.

My instructions were to place the bees in a mouse-proof container outside, or in the crisper section of the fridge until the first flowers begin to blossom in the spring. I chose the fridge. Gordon Cyr, the man who sent the bees, told me he keeps his bees outside because his wife will not allow insects in the fridge, asleep or not. Myself, I was not squeamish, I figured they were safer nestled in a sturdy container underneath the carrots.

I was to put the bee house in a south facing direction, inserting the tiny cocoons into the man-made bee dormitory when the time was right.

Mason bees are peaceful, non-stingers who happily pollinate within a 100-yard radius of their home base, leaving the messy business of honey making to their honeybee cousins.

I think of them like little hippy bees with tie-dyed wings. "Sting you? That would be so uncool, man."

If you would like to support our dwindling bee population, you can order your very own bee commune from www.masonbeehomes.com

Peace.