Bee Watering Station by Jacqueline Freeman
This bee waterer is designed to make sure the bees don’t fall into the water. If bees float on water, they have a hard time taking off. This waterer gives bees the ability to get all the water they want while keeping their feet on something firm.
Farmer Marie Tedei has spent her life cultivating a business using chemical-free honey at Eden’s Garden CSA (community supported agriculture) farm in Balch Springs. Aerial spraying to control mosquitoes won’t take place over Balch Springs tonight, but Tedei fears the bees and her business could be affected by leftover chemicals in the rain. (Photos by Kye R. Lee/DMN)
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The material has been hand dyed with turmeric, tea and onions skins. Then hand printed with lino cuts to represent the larvae, workers, drones and the single queen bee. The quilt was then then pieced, quilted and bound by hand.
The bees are arranged in a rough imitation of the structure of a hive: the queen is surrounded by workers, each drone and larvae are attended by their own workers, while others form a circle to represent a “bee dance” and some stand guard at the entrance to the hive.
An assortment of pressed-glass honey jars, many with honeycomb and ribbed straw patterns, dates from the late 19th century to the 1950s. They are ideal for blossoms of honeysuckle and other summer flowers. The tall jar with a label, probably of a beekeeper, is from the 1880s; in front of it is a 1930s pressed-glass jar patterned with hexagonal cells. During the Depression, jars that could be reused as decanters or bottles were a favorite of housewives. Today, these charming containers can be found at flea markets.
Aganetha Dyck is a sculptor, who initially worked with a range of sculptural media like wool, cigarettes and buttons. Since 1991 she has concentrated solely on collaborating with the honey bee as architect and places ordinary objects in apiary hives allowing the bees to create honeycomb to encrust the objects.
Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes were beekeepers, a hobby that was reflected in many of Plath’s poems and seems to have stemmed from a desire to feel grounded. When asked in a 1962 interview if she often hung out with other writers, she responded,
“I much prefer doctors, midwives, lawyers, anything but writers. I think writers and artists are the most narcissistic people. I mustn’t say this, I like many of them, in fact a great many of my friends happen to be writers and artists. But I must say what I admire most is the person who masters an area of practical experience, and can teach me something. I mean, my local midwife has taught me how to keep bees. Well, she can’t understand anything I write. And I find myself liking her, may I say, more than most poets. And among my friends I find people who know all about boats or know all about certain sports, or how to cut somebody open and remove an organ. I’m fascinated by this mastery of the practical. As a poet, one lives a bit on air. I always like someone who can teach me something practical.”
Honeycomb (Taken with Instagram)
Photo Credit: John W. Poole/NPR
“Somewhere along the road our Libyan driver, Mahmoud El Kish, pulled the car over. In front of us was a roadside stand, where young men were selling strong-smelling bunches of rosemary, sage, and mint. Mahmoud had his eye on something sweeter: Glass jars of pure honey.
He paid 20 Libyan dinars, about $15.00, for a single jar, which he considered worth the price. For one thing, it was said to be the most special of all kinds of Libyan honey, made by bees that feast on the flowers of the sacred sidrah tree.
More important, Mahmoud had a special purpose for the honey. He sipped it straight from the jar and then handed it to John Poole, our photographer. Both John and Mahmoud had been experiencing some stomach trouble along the road. “Drink this,” Mahmoud said. “It is good for the stomach. It’s like medicine.”