C. Marina Marchese - Honeybee: Lessons from an Accidental Beekeeper

Honeybee
Lessons from an Accidental Beekeeper

C. MARINA MARCHESE

Illustrations by Elara Tanguy

Copyright 2009 by C. Marina Marchese

All rights reserved. No part of this book, either text or illustration, may be used or
reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the publisher.

Published by
Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, Inc.
151 West 19th Street
New York, NY 10011

Distributed by
Workman Publishing Company
225 Varick Street
New York, NY 10014

Manufactured in the United States of America

Cover and interior design by Susi Oberhelman

All illustrations Elara Tanguy, except for pages 5 and 32,
which are drawn by the author.

Cover art from Grand Herbier by Pedanius Dioscorides,
Getty/Bridgeman Art Library

ISBN-13: 978-1-57912-815-9

h g f e d c b a

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available upon request.

The publisher disclaims any responsibility for any loss, injury or damages caused as
a result of the implementation of any technique, method or advice discussed in this book.

for my honey v-bee

Gratitude, praise, and recognition to the following people I have been lucky to learn from and work with on this personal journey:

My agent, Coleen OShea, and her business partner, Marilyn Allen, both of whom were bee-lievers in this project from the beginning. I am indebted to author Claire Garcia, for her enthusiasm and generous introductions, and to Connie Pappas, for sparking my motivation.

Becky Koh, editor extraordinaire, who fearlessly accompanied me into the hive and also extracted 20 pounds of sticky honey. Her brilliant guidance, editing, and vision shaped my concept into perfection. Thank you!

J.P. Leventhal, who embraced my passion for the honeybee, and everyone at Black Dog & Leventhal who contributed to making this project a success, including Liz Hartman, director of marketing and publicity; Judy Courtade, sales director; and True Sims, production manager. As well as Susi Oberhelman, for her lovely book design, and Elara Tanguy, for her charming illustrations.

Howland Blackiston, who introduced me to the magical world of honeybees. Your mentoring and creative spirit were the inspiration for this work. Grazie mille!

The community of amazing beekeepers I have met on my journeys at home and around the world, who have opened up their own hives and graciously shared their honeybee wisdom. The Back Yard Beekeepers Association and its members, for allowing me into their hive and enriching my journey. The Apitherapy Society, for introducing me to how the honeybee heals. Kim Flottum at Bee Culture magazine, who gave me the confidence to write. Master beekeeper, Ann Harmon, and Alan Lorenzo, bee venom therapist, who read and advised. Honey judges Robert Brewer and Michael Young, both of whom inspired my reverence for honey. Bill and Royal Draper, for answering all my bee questions. Giovanni and Francesco at Bottega della Api, Siete molto gentili. Joe at Puglia Wine Imports.

Vic, who patiently read, forfeited vacations, and put up with my deadlines, yet has not swarmed and continues to keep honeybees. My sister Nicole, for reading. My sister Andrea, for bottling honey. Mom, for her honey recipes, and Dad, who is now a true honey lover. Sarah, my tall, clear glass of water. And, Brave! to all the worker bees at Red Bee Honey who kept the hive buzzing so I could write.

Special beekeepers, chefs, and loyal honey lovers who gave their generous support along the way. Thank you, Nick, Taylor, and Amy at Murrays Cheese; Erin at Artisanal Premium Cheese Center; Julian and Lisa Niccolini at The Four Seasons; and Marty Vaz at Speak Easy Cocktails.

Although Ive been a beekeeper for a long time, I will never forget my very first taste of fresh honey straight out of the beehive. Almost ten years ago a neighbor, Mr. B, invited me to his apiary to meet his honeybees. I was apprehensive about the offer. I thought to myself, Sure, I like honey, but Im not so sure I like honeybees. Suddenly I imagined myself surrounded by a swarm of hundreds of buzzing bees. The idea scared me, as I think it would most people. But I was ready for a new adventure, so I accepted Mr. Bs invitation.

It was a perfect early spring day when I showed up at Mr. Bs home to meet his honeybees. In his backyard stood three tall boxes that looked like painted white file cabinets; these were his beehives. As Mr. B greeted me, he handed me a beekeepers veil to put over my head for protection. Then he donned his own veil and walked toward the hives. As I followed him, heart pounding in my ears, he explained that honeybees, although quite docile, were also curious creatures. They liked to crawl into nooks and crannies and into our clothing. The veils should stop them from stinging our faces. Stinging our faces? I wondered what I was getting myself into. By the time we arrived at the hives, I was trembling. Mr. B lit his bee smoker, a small tin container that looked a little like a coffee can, and blew a few puffs of smoke into the front entrance of the first beehive. Then he lifted the cover to direct the smoke at the bees inside. He explained that the smoke calmed the bees and distracted them from our presence.

He then gently removed the cover completely from the hive and placed it on the grass. I craned my neck to peer inside, still trying not to get too close. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of honeybees crawled across the top of the ten perfectly positioned wooden frames that sat vertically inside the box. I was utterly surprised and relieved to see that the bees were indeed quite calm. With his bare hands, Mr. B. slowly removed a single wooden frame covered with bees. I watched with amazement as the bees walked across his fingers, then his hands, and onto his sleeve. But Mr. B took no notice. These are Italian honeybees, he said. I had to smile. Since I am of Italian ancestry, I liked the idea of Italian honeybees. Out of nowhere came thoughts of telling my friends, I raise Italian honeybees.

Mr. B inspected the frame and pointed out the different kinds of bees: the female worker bees that gathered the nectar and made the honey, and the male drone bees whose primary job was to mate with the queen. He told me that there was one queen bee in every hive and that all hive activities revolved around her egg-laying schedule. The female ruled the hiveI liked the way that sounded.

When Mr. B announced that it was my turn to hold the frame, I shrank back. But his gentle handling of the bees and his calm demeanor somehow gave me the courage to accept the frame from him with my own bare hands. Bees were everywheredozens of them crawling on my fingers and making their way onto my sleeves. I took a deep breath and held the frame firmly so as not to make any sudden movements and upset them. I can do this bee thing, I said to myself. I am fearless.

As I held the frame, Mr. B pointed out the perfectly formed honeycomb, made of beeswax, that filled the center of the frame. The honeycomb was where the queen laid her eggs and the worker bees stored their pollen and honey. When I held the frame up to the sunlight, the honeycomb looked like a beautiful stained-glass window. Mr. B. poked his finger into the hexagon-shaped cells. Sparkling amber liquid oozed out of the cells and drizzled down the frame. Mr. B stuck his fingers under his veil and carefully licked off the precious honey. He invited me to do the same. Careful not to disturb a single bee, I poked my finger into a new cell to expose more of the pristine honey. As I excitedly drew my finger up to my mouth, I forgot about my protective veil and smeared it with the honey. Mr. B chuckled. I captured another dollop of honey, this time managing to bring my finger underneath my veil. It tasted glorious and exquisite, heavenly and perfect. It was like nothing I had ever savored. At that moment, I knew I wanted to keep Italian honeybees that made this divine treasure called honey.