Beekeepers' Ball

It goes without saying that I'm obsessed with the culture of the bee. It is utterly enlightening to observe, from a privileged perspective, a microcosmic social system seemingly as complex as our own. Although I enjoy anthropomorphizing the little buzzers, I believe that the pleasure I derive from their presence in my life exemplifies an essential difference between humans and bees. Bees are all work, no play. Humans, on the other hand, are capable of both. Interestingly, humans dressed as bees are incapable of work (unless that work involves drinking mead and waggle dancing,) and achieve greater pleasure than humans not dressed as bees.

Beekeeper and Queen Bee Waggle Dancing (and indulging in a delicious honey-glazed donut)

(Note bees stuck to veil... a brilliant detail. The Queen looked stunning. I want that dress.)

Me, waggle dancing

We didn't let those dreary skies get us down!

Two worker bees, chatting about how they love costume parties

Awash in a sea of yellow, united by a love of honeybees

The Beekeepers' Ball kicked off the first day of Pollinator Week, organized by Just Food. Beekeepers, bee lovers, urban gardeners and costume enthusiasts gathered at the South Street Water Taxi Beach last night to raise awareness about the importance of honeybees. Beekeeping is illegal in NYC for stupid reasons. (Read: stupid people.) Pretty much every major city in the US has legalized beekeeping because residents understand the important role pollination plays in our environment. Somehow, New York is still living in the dark ages, fining beekeepers for contributing to the health and diversity of our ecosystem. As I mentioned in an earlier post, honeybees are gentle, like fuzzy puppies who fly. If you haven't already, please sign the petition to legalize beekeeping in the city!

People often ask me how/why I got into beekeeping. My best answer has been this: a whim collided with an opportunity. Last night, as I posed for photos in full-on bee camo in front of delighted tourists at South Street Seaport, I was reminded how strange, fortuitous, and sweet these last few months have been.

I lost my job as an English Teacher at a public, bilingual high school in the Bronx in March, due to "budget cuts." According to my evil principal, my 9th graders could do without English Language Arts, (think Lord of the Flies, Of Mice and Men, etc.) because they had ESL (think I am, you are, etc.). Although this logic continues to baffle me, I was forced to accept my situation and make the most of it. Beekeeping has introduced me to an entirely different way of life: slower, with less stress and more joy. I've returned to the things that I love: writing, nature, learning, activism... I've met incredible people. I'm happier than I've been in a long time.

In his awesome, beautifully written, informative book The Queen Must Die, writer and beekeeper William Longgood ruminates, "How many of us would be other than we are if not for chance, because some small cog slipped in here when it could as easily have gone in there?" One of my cogs, (a very expensive cog,) fell into grad school, another cog subsequently slipped into teaching, which ultimately led to a surprise cog being forcefully jammed into unemployment. Somewhere along the way I changed my entire idea of what my life might look like. I cannot congratulate myself for this newfound perspective, as Longgood so eloquently reminds me: "Any credit or blame that we take for what befalls us must be shared with the capricious god of chance."

The god of chance is certainly capricious, but his mighty winds are blowing good things in my direction for the time being. If only he could stop the rain...

Feeling like Bee Jackson

Happy Pollinator Week!!!

There's a great article about the Ball (and photo of the costume winners) in the Dining blog of the New York Times! Read!

Do Bees Have Knees?

Yes, I believe they do. Ah, I love the internet. After more grueling research, I learned that there are three main theories regarding the origin of this phrase:

1.) The term "the bee's knees" debuted in a set of similar phrases: the snake's hips, the cat's pyjamas, the sardine's whiskers. Apparently in the 1920's it was a fun, silly thing to exclaim or make up nonsensical animal phrases that indicated something was the best.

I went through a period of switching everyone's first letter of their first and last names in high school. This provided my friends and I countless hours of mindless giggles. Need a new one? Think of another person! Your mom's name! Carol Barrett becomes Barol Carrett! Amazing!

I imagine that if I'd lived in the 1920's, I'd have come up with some winners: "the owl's pantyhose," "the baboon's tube socks," "the otter's opposable thumbs." That was just spinning some ideas off the top of my head. No biggie.

2) Around the same time, there was a broadway dancer named Bee Jackson! Anyone who knew me as a kid knew that I fantasized about being a broadway dancer. (Cats obsession.) I wish I had been Bee Jackson! I picture her in a yellow flapper costume with antennae and a stinger, striped tights... Although I'm sure she didn't do the "bee thing" all the time. (If ever.) But wow, Bee Jackson, Broadway dancer and inspiration for the term "the bee's knees." What a woman!

3) In June, 1797, a certain Mrs. Townley Ward wrote in her Letters, "It cannot be as big as a bee's knee." This one in particular grips me. Who is this Mrs. Townley Ward? To whom did she write? And most importantly, what cannot be as big as a bee's knee?? A zit? A stab wound?!?!? The possibilities are endless!!!

"...and rain will make the flowers grow" Any former Broadway nerds out there??

I'm heading to New Orleans for a couple days. I'm kind of expecting to fall in love with the place and want to move... start a bunch of hives in a backyard... ah, the eternally returning dream of a backyard.

When I return, the Bee Team should have 3 new hives in Brooklyn! I can't wait to meet the new girls!