I've always been drawn to bees.

I was once so drawn to them that I was pulled abruptly from a horse's saddle and onto an unsuspecting ground nest.

That hive had apparently escaped any lessons in manners because I was welcomed with a rather painful greeting from at least thirty of them.

Afterward, as I sat uncomfortably on a heavily cushioned chair and waited for signs of anaphylaxis, I decided that my affinity for bees would be the "from a distance" sort (like appreciating the breeze from an oscillating fan without putting your hands into it).

My appreciation of those fiery little creatures was amplified recently when I attended a class on beeswax products at Wolfe's Neck Farm in Freeport.

The class is part of the farm's Do it Yourself series, which includes classes on things like cheese making, bread making and backyard chickens.

Our expectation that Saturday morning was to learn to make lip balm and hand lotion from beeswax (a skill I thought might come in handy when the American dollar tanks and we revert to the old standby: bartering). It was a perk to walk away with some bee pedagogy as well.

Our instructor Mark is a part-time beekeeper himself, with 22 hives on his property in Pittston. And if his T-shirt doesn't make it clear enough, the man digs his bees.

While he measured out ingredients and walked us through the hand lotion-creating process, he also educated us on bee realities. For one, the diminishing population forces Maine's blueberry farmers to import 100,000 hives every year to adequately pollinate the fields. [Check out this 60 Minutes video, "What's Wrong with the Bees"]

Mark gave us the queen bee details too, like how more than one potential queen is laid and reared in "queen cells" and the first two to emerge fight to the death. [More on queen bees]

We also took a gander at raw beeswax -before it's melted and strained to remove things like dirt and "bee parts" (the technical term). In the above photo you can see a few bees entombed in the wax.

Mark supplied all the materials needed for the class - from the beeswax to the cooking pots, which he insisted he didn't steal from his wife. On the Wolfe's Neck Farm kitchen stove, we marveled over the melting wax.

With the addition of mineral oil, distilled water and borax, we had ourselves some liquid hand lotion.

The lotion is funneled, still hot, into cups of your preference.

The lotion firms up a bit once it starts cooling, though it felt pretty sweet to sample it while it was still warm.

Then on to the lip balm. Again the ingredients are few: some shredded beeswax, a few oils and some aloe-vera gel.

The mixture is poured into a plastic bottle for easier tube filling. And after that cools, it's ready for use as well.

The two-hour class cost $30. Though we were told if we stuck around for the backyard chicken class (which was happening later that afternoon) we could also leave with a full-grown chicken.

It wasn't an altogether absurd idea. The ban on backyard chickens in Portland was lifted in February and chicken owners are no longer compelled to disguise their chickens as animated lawn ornaments or unfortunate-looking cats.

We scoped out the chickens before we left the farm, though I ultimately decided my apartment neighbors might not approve.

I did leave with two containers of hand lotion and a couple tubes of lip balm, which I put to use immediately.

For upcoming classes at the farm, check the Wolfe's Neck Farm website

And before you angrily swat at a bee this summer, remember how important Maine's state insect is to the local farming economy and to food production around the world.

Then swat at it. (You can still appreciate bees without allowing them to overtake your picnic or nest in your hair.)