Welcome to Unpretending’s Substack. This is our journey as we heal as a Multiple
It had rained the day before, the kind of rain that sets in, soaking the ground right down to the roots of every tree. The air was fresh and fragrant as I smiled at the blue sky with swiftly moving clouds.
My coffee, hot in my mug, was warming my hands as I walked slowly, observing the crystals made by droplets of rain all over the garden. Saturday morning, where there were no time schedules, children could watch cartoons and I could let my mind go and imagination drift with barely an interruption.
I make my way to the furthest corner of my yard, this enclosed corner garden beheld olive trees, a small walk-in greenhouse, a mess of stalks with end of season raspberries, a fig tree heavy with fruit, and..., my bee hive.
The hive that stands before me, resting on the base of an old iron chair is called a Warre Hive and was designed by a monk named Abbé Émile Warré in the early 1950’s. I chose this type of hive due to the smaller size of each box, hoping they will be easier to lift as I maintained the hive.
The bee hive, 3 boxes high with a quilt box near the roof. Ice-cream containers hold a little water to keep ants out. Photo by Unpretending Spontaneous
I find a fairly dry place to sit beside the hive, take a sip of my rapidly cooling coffee and set in to watch my bees as they begin their day. The sun is yet to caress the hive with her rays so the daily flurry of bees has barely begun.
With the middle of Autumn approaching and the weather becoming colder, the bees know that time is short before the warm weather and flowers fade completely. It’s a race to get as much honey made before winter sets in.
As I sit, a lone bee ventures out to investigate my movement, the hive has sensed my presence. After a brief examination of me sitting in my lavender coloured dressing gown, she is satisfied that I’m a regular visitor, not a threat and she quickly returns inside informing the hive no action needs to be taken. A few more inquisitive bees walk onto the landing pad at the entrance of the hive to have a curious look at me, just to be sure.
When I began bee keeping in 2001, I had grand plans of working my way towards owning several hives, yet those plans do not seem to be panning out. As with my unique approach to life in general, I am also an unusual bee keeper.
A productive bee keeper I am not. Bee keepers or Apiarists maintain their hives regularly to ensure there are no bugs, beetles and mites, and to check the bees are doing what bees do. Apiarists farm honey.
However our approach to beekeeping is that the hive maintenance is left to the intelligent bees who have looked after their own hives for millennia. I don’t lift boxes from one another to check the frames. Each time a box is removed from the hive, the bees hard work of sealing up spaces between the boxes is destroyed. Bees create a substance called propolis, it’s used like mortar and is the hives natural protection from the elements and other insects that would like to rob the hive. also putting boxes back onto the hive accidentally kills some of the bees as they stand on the edges. I’m sure experienced Apiarists do not accidentally kill bees.
Bees covering the top of this box. Harvest time - Spring 2022. Photo by Unpretending Spontaneous
In fact, Autumn is typically the time Apiarists harvest the honey from the hive. Remember how I’m a Multiple? Well we have people on the inside of us that consider Autumn harvest as robbing the hive, because it’s the bees who have worked hard all Summer long to prepare for the Winter. We harvest remaining honey in Spring.
There’s another rather embarrassing reason we don’t maintain the hive..., as much as we love bees we are afraid of being stung as we are rather allergic. We developed the allergy after multiple stings in our first season by our “bee whisperer”, who liked to have bees crawling on their outstretched finger. They hadn’t yet learnt bee behaviour. These days we have a much better understanding of bees and their behaviour, that’s why we can sit close to the hive without needing our bee suit.
Window in the hive showing frames with thick propolis to keep the hive warm and protect it over winter. Photo by Unpretending Spontaneous
Lost in thought I sip my coffee and absentmindedly place a finger on the wet landing pad. The bees keep it clean with wax and water droplets accumulate after the rain. I sweep my finger through the water, picking up a piece of soft white wax that has rolled out of the hive. Whoops! Too late. My movement has sent out guards ready to protect the hive.
“Hmmm,” says a guard as she flies zig zagging out of the hive then lands below, resting on the ice-cream container. “I’ve got my eyes on you. One move from you and I’ll launch myself at you and sting your nose!” She declares (or so our bee whisperer believes).
I reply to her in my soft voice, “It’s okay little bee, I’m not here to steal your honey.” She is not quite convinced, she flies zig zig zag back into the hive to get reinforcements.
A few more guards fly out to give me a warning, letting me know they are armed and ready.
One zooms in a circle around my face, I’m sure this informs the rest of the hive the perimeter of skin available to be stung if needed. I am not afraid and keep my presence calm and watch as the bees realise I’m staying still.
The guard announces once again, “Alright girls! No need to attack, let’s get back to work." As she resumes her position just inside the entrance of the hive where she can see me yet I cannot see her. But I know she is there.
Sunlight has made its way onto the hive now and I watch the workers begin to make their way out for the day. Most walk out and up onto the sunbeam splashing the boxes side, where they warm their little bodies, stretch their wings and take off in flight to their designated areas to collect pollen, nectar and even water to feed their queen, her babies and make honey reserves for the winter.
Slow motion Video of the bees sunning themselves before the work day
I gaze mesmerised for a while until realising I’ve finished my coffee. And just as the bees have begun their flurry, I too must begin the work and play of this Saturday. I do hope you’ve enjoyed this quiet time with me and our bees.
Thank you for coming to our Substack.
We hope you have a wonderful day.