Honeybee_ Lessons from an Accidental Beekeeper - C. Marina Marchese [10]
I asked Mary where the honey swap took place and was directed to an old wooden table, were seven beekeepers hovered, eyeballing honey jars of various shapes and sizes. The colors of the honeys varied as well, from light to medium to dark. Some had a tinge of red, and others green. Each honey was harvested from a local beekeeper who was a member of the club. The jar labels were handmade and whimsical and advertised the name of the beekeeper’s apiary or farm. Many displayed the typical honeybees-and-flower motif, while others featured beehives. I chuckled at one that read: “One Pound Golden Hoard Honey. Our bees forage exclusively in backcountry Greenwich. They do not visit Stamford, Armonk, Port Chester or other such places.” Beekeepers were certainly creative, clever, and definitely not lacking a sense of humor.
SKETCHES FROM MY BEE JOURNAL
The rules of the swap were simple. Any beekeeper who contributed a bottle of honey was allowed to choose a bottle in exchange. I watched as each bottle was snatched up and wished I had some honey of my own to share. Mary, who had brought a jar, chose a very dark-colored honey called buckwheat. She told me that darker honeys had loads of iron and antioxidants. Also, the honey would have qualities of the plant whose flowers the bees took nectar from—in this case, buckwheat. One gentleman beekeeper noticed my interest in all the honey samples and offered me one of the three bottles he’d taken from the table. I accepted it with great pleasure.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” he said. When I replied that I was, he said, “You keep coming here, and you’ll learn a lot about bees. And make some new friends.”
Before the night was over, I ran into Mr. B, who introduced me to even more beekeeping friends. “New-bee” is the name used to describe beginner beekeepers, and that’s how I was referred to. I was invited to sign up as a club member and to attend a hive inspection that coming Saturday. Without hesitation, I accepted the invitation and wrote down the address.
My first beekeeping meeting was like opening a door into a whole new world that I had no idea existed. Looking back, the bee club was like a secret society, complete with its own meetings and even its own vocabulary. Through the BYBA, I would meet people from all walks of life, but who all shared a passion for bees. They would teach me how to manage my honeybees and how to harvest and bottle my honey. And they would be there for me as lifelong mentors, making me a better beekeeper. I went to bee meetings, including some in other cities, for my entire first year of beekeeping. It was not long before I became more involved in the organization, but it wasn’t until after I began serving on the board of directors that I learned my Mr. B was a past president.
CHAPTER 3
Apiology: The Study of Bees
Knowing that the hive inspection awaited me on Saturday, I don’t know how I managed to get through the rest of the workweek after that first meeting of the Back Yard Beekeepers. Despite all the creative freedom my job offered me, the repetitive designing and sourcing of products was beginning to lose its charm. My affection for honeybees and the vast world of wisdom they bestowed upon me was enticing. It occurred to me that I was a worker bee, but longed to be the queen.
Saturday finally arrived, and I woke early with anticipation. Since I did not have the traditional protective beekeeper’s jacket and veil yet, I had