What's the buzz about honey bees?

It is an unseasonably warm day at my Western NC farm and I stroll among fields of blooming henbit, a weed that supports orchid-like purple blossoms.  Last year when the henbit bloomed, it supplied food for thousands of foraging honey bees and I carefully placed my feet, in order to avoid smashing those hardworking creatures.  Today, I walk, heedless of where my boots tread, my mind filled with the day's beautiful hush, but cognizant of the portentous title of author Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, which echoes my unease.  My pollinators, my coworkers and my pets are absent and I brush away tears as I survey the blooming expanse that goes to waste.  Such is the plight of many US beekeepers and, like the canaries employed by coal miners to alert workers to the presence of lethal gases, I see the absence of my farm's honey bees as an alarm for humanity.

Fields of Blooming Henbit

Recently, I had the pleasure of attending a lecture by Gunther Hauk, biodynamic gardener and beekeeper.  Although it was a chilly evening in Boone, NC, Gunther's beautiful slideshow of his wife's photographs of bees and blossoms from their Spikenard Farm Honeybee Sanctuary, in Floyd, Virginia, warmed the crowd of interested attendees.  My husband, Richard and I mourned the loss of honey bees that died during this past Winter, but Gunther's fascinating presentation encouraged us to move past our sadness and look forward to keeping new hives that will, hopefully, arrive at Heart & Sole Gardens in the near future.

Richard checks beehives in 2013

Although I know no one who does not enjoy eating honey, I often encounter people who look askance at me when I say our farm honey bees are our pets.  Just as we interact with the Purple Martin birds at our farm, our visits there usually include checking the beehives and observing these hardworking "girls" as they pollinate our crops.  All "worker bees" are female (you are not surprised?) and without these tiny armies, many of our favorite foods would disappear from our diet.  California almond growers are so dependent upon honey bee pollination, they hire thousands of hives to travel long distances to work the orchards during blossom season.  Richard and I believe this practice is a sort of slavery and we are committed to providing a variety of forage for our bees, allowing them to live and work as naturally as possible and we share in their bounty only when there is an abundance of honey.

Our homemade strainer fills jars of honey

When I read last year's farm journal, it was just about this time we began to lose hives.  In March of 2013, we had eight thriving beehives.  Heart & Sole housed four of those and a friend allowed us to place four hives on his property.  All hives were healthy in early April, but about two weeks after commercial farmers began to prepare nearby fields for planting, three of the hives at our friend's property were gone and a third was extremely weak.  We moved the last hive to the farm and hoped it would survive, but soon after the move, it died.  Many theories exist about why beehives suddenly die or disappear, a situation known as Colony Collapse Disorder, but I believe commercial farmers' practice of treating fields with chemicals probably contributes to their demise. 

In early Winter, our remaining hives seemed to have plenty of stored honey and on warm days, we would often see bees entering and leaving their hives; however, after several days of frigid temperatures, we noticed there was no movement from the hives.  We checked the boxes, removing the lids and peering inside and saw clusters of dead bees in the center of each hive.  There were no survivors.  After speaking with many other beekeepers, we believe our honey bees froze during the exceptionally cold Winter. 

We depend upon our honey bees to pollinate our crops and increase yield, but Richard and I also think of their honey as medicine and we seldom skip a day without adding a spoonful to our morning coffee or tea.  We are convinced this practice relieves us of nagging seasonal allergy symptoms we used to experience.  For those who wish to add honey to a daily health practice, only local honey should be used and, ideally, purchased from the beekeeper.

Honey bees "hanging out" from a summer hive

As we mourn our losses, Richard and I look forward to hosting new hives at our farm and we hope we will prove to be better stewards of these necessary, fascinating creatures.  We have no magic solutions to honey bee problems and there is no standard guide for beekeepers to follow, but we are passionate about coexisting with the "girls" and  will do all in our power to keep our next hives healthy and strong.

Lemon Balm Tea With Honey

Lemon balm is a delightful herb, easy to grow in almost any climate or soil condition.  A member of the mint family, lemon balm is easier to contain than most mints and produces large, fragrant leaves early in the Spring.  Regularly snip the leaves to keep the plant from blooming too early.  Lemon balm reseeds and will appear in unexpected places in subsequent years, but is easily transplanted.  Purchase lemon balm at farmer's markets, farm supply stores or accept as a gift from a friend who is willing to share.  For a delicious porch sipper, try this recipe.

Lemon Balm Tea, Garnished with Meyer Lemon and fresh lemon balm

1 quart water

1 large handful fresh lemon balm

2-3 tablespoons local honey

Place lemon balm leaves into a large glass bowl or pitcher.  Boil water and pour over the leaves.  Steep for 10-15 minutes.  Strain leaves through a coffee filter into another pitcher.  Add honey while tea is warm and stir to dissolve.  Enjoy warm tea or chill to serve with ice.