Bee’s Tale

The patient bride…

Nice frock! Who is she Bee?  asked Betsy, quite spellbound  Is she a princess? A queen? She looks so regal….

She’s bored!  said Beetrice with focused foraging fervor.
Betsy was shaken out of her reverie The flowers are nice.

She’s waiting. She’s waiting for her first glass of mead as a new bride. Her beloved, recently appointed, husband forgot it was his duty to provide a quantity of liquid lusciousness to start their marital bliss… so he's been sent out in search of it. 

Betsy blinked…..confused.

He’s been gone a week!  Bee was starting to get a little pink in the cheeks. It wasn’t easy to extract nectar and talk…
'If you look closely you’ll see that she’s actually nodded off. It’s only the corset inside her dress that’s keeping her upright!
  she exclaimed, her head suddenly flicking up creating a great puff-ball halo of fine yellow pollen while simultaneously, and very liberally, spraying Betsy with nectar.

Nice flowers  said Betsy undaunted….and slightly indignant.

Plastic!  said Bee  This is her third attempt at marriage. Each time the man has forgotten to provide the mead.

Betsy was starting to get impatient and ever so slightly techy,  Mead….what’s so impor…

Sacred ceremony  said Bee   s l o w l y   as she turned to look at Betsy.

Here we go  thought Betsy….Beetrice was starting to levitate…..

Marriage is a sacred ceremony. Mead has been created for sacred ritual, sacred ceremony since, since….well, since Great Mother Bee spilt tears of joy on to the first honey produced by the first honey bee. Her tears were a blessing on the union of man and woman as they came together in the sacred relationship of marriage. Marriage…a dedication to life together. To and for each other and what that life together may create.

Mead is a sacred libation!

Gosh  said Betsy…..nice frock.

As The Day Draws to a Close

Here comes Betsy…..(sigh)….

It’s happened again. It happens every year now. It doesn’t get easier. In fact, it gets more and more frustrating. With each and every departure my heart breaks a little bit more. If you were to take a tour of my coronary infrastructure you’d find everything from cracks as fine as a gossamer thread to craters of a size of Lake Taupo.

My sisters have gone. Whole communities have disappeared. Not a sign. No messages or forwarding addresses. I used to love hearing their buzz. See them coming and going…delight in the aromatic magnificence of their industry. I used to get such a thrill out of kicking the butts of those who strayed over to our place, exhausted… unable to find their own front door…..such simple fun!

During this season our human brothers and sisters have and continue to experience something similar to our suffering. They call it a pandemic. It’s stimulated a lot of activity, a lot of thought and a good deal of emotion. I wonder how they would feel, behave, if this happened to them year on year…..

It’s so quiet.


It’s been such a good summer. Such a fabulous time. So much food, so much colour, so much sun. The place seemed to be thrumming. It was thrumming! And now? Now it’s just us and the girls next door.

My name is Beetrice. And it’s time to tell a different story.

Team Building …maybee

Hey Beetrice…
Hey Betsy…
What yer doin’?

You look a bit stretched said Betsy as she nodded to my three-way suspension. What’s the hold up? Betsy glanced towards the girls further up the line.

Team leader’s a bit distracted. She’s just heard that September’s Bee Aware Month and there’s a photographer on the loose. She’s gone a bit off-piste…touched by the idea of photos. Apparently she’s reinventing an exotic-flower waggle dance and driving the foraging fraternity frantic….she keeps making spelling mistakes!……. I laughed and then regretted it. Must put more effort into those pelvic floor exercises….

I’m not sure about these team building days, Bee. Has someone forgotten that we have wings? I winced as Ethel, trying to make herself comfortable, kicked me in the proboscis. Betsy was starting to get on my……Who’s the photographer?

Not sure. I’ve heard they’re using a drone….

And team leader??


Celebrating Life

Hey Beetrice!
Hey Betsy
You look a little wistful today, Bee? Betsy inquired, her face disappearing as she gently probed for nectar.
mmmm……..….Clare went home today. My whole body became a long, slow sigh.

Back to Great Mother? So many leave each day Bee…..?
Like you Betsy she was a dear, delightful friend.
You know that going home to Great Mother is…

Yes! ……‘dear, delightful'…sometimes I could throttle…… …fields of flowers, fresh clean air, clear sparkling water…. land of milk and honey….Nirvana, Valhalla, Shangrila….Elysium…………….Zion!

You’ve been reading the thesaurus again!  We laughed.
How would you like to mark her passing Bee?

The only way a good bee would celebrate a life…with nectar transformed by love in positive, dynamic relationship with the soul purpose of celebration…

Mead it is then. Let’s go!


So much love to you dear, delightful, darling Clare.
23.1.61 – 5.2.21