They are the pollenators, without whom life as we know it would cease to be.
These are the things I think about when working the hive.
Inspecting for various signs. That the queen is alive and doing her job.
That the bees have enough food and are healthy, and making notes along the way.
As a steward of the bees, it isn't necessiarily about obtaining the sweet honey that will eventually come it is about survival, sustainablity and commitment to life (something I learned a lot about from my brother in law Bob #survivorbee.
The Honey Bee and the Human Heart: Lessons on Survival, Change, and Letting Go
Nature rarely hands us a metaphor as perfectly as the honey bee. Tiny, tireless, and woven into the fabric of life itself, honey bees are often admired for their industriousness. But beneath the hum of the hive lies something deeper: a story about survival, change, and the bittersweet art of letting go.
If you’ve ever raised a child — from the sleepless newborn days to the defiant teenage years — you’ll recognize yourself in the life of a honey bee. Their story is, in so many ways, our own.
For my husband and I having two now teenagers (13, & 17 almost 14 & 18) this most recent years has taught us many lessons that are comparable to the life of a honey bee. Maybe that is why I find myself sitting in front of the apiary just watching the flight patterns, the struggles of a removal of a bee from the hive or the protection of the hive when a danger is sensed by the colony. I find solace, saddness and also pride in the work.
Survival is Not Stagnation
A beehive survives because it adapts. It is not a static place; it is a community in motion, constantly recalibrating to the seasons, the weather, and the needs of the moment. Workers are born, thrive, and eventually leave the hive. Queens rise and fall. Drones come and go. The hive hums on.
Parenthood feels much the same. The early years are survival mode — sleepless nights, the constant hum of needs, and the blurry exhaustion of tending to tiny, dependent beings. Like bees in a hive protecting fragile larvae, parents shield, feed, and nurture. Life is dictated by the rhythms of those early days. Recently I have been missing those days. They were perfect (though at the time I didn't realize it AND it felt terribly hard). What I wouldn't go back to do some things differently because of what I know now. AND what I recognize is that to do it differently would alter the today and I wouldn't be writing these reflections.
But nothing stays still. Children grow. They assert. They challenge. They change. Survival becomes less about protection and more about guiding them through transformation. This is a shift in parenting that I was ill prepared for. The struggle between what I knew, letting go, inparting trust, and overcoming my own feelings of how things should be became a central internal battle.
In the next few weeks I will be unearthing the last years journey.
Signing off -- Sweet Williams
