Taking the Sting Out of Monday

Marvelous photos showcasing the extraordinary diversity of bees.
Take a look!

Earthworms Deserve More Poems!

A friend recently asked me for a copy of this poem I wrote back in 1999, while at a writer's colony in Taos, New Mexico.

I'm glad she did, for I'd forgotten about it and was glad to be reunited with the strong pleasure I feel when I remember to take the time to commune with the worms. Earthworms are one of the many unsung heroes of the natural world. For gardeners, they're good friends, but all of us who eat are directly enriched by the work they do.

And so I hope you'll enjoy my poem, "Reward."

REWARD
You must first be willing to kneel before the meadow.
Align your ear to its uneven surface and you will hear
the wheezing earthworms below, rubbery locksmiths
tunneling through their monotonous dimension. You
will hear the mild sucking of the earth entering into them,
the rasping friction of soil undulating uneasily through
them, and its loose translation into unstrung
baby bracelets of aerated loam. Look around you,
for you are kneeling amidst a sea of worm-castings,
amidst their labor and its souvenirs.
Then smell the worked-over soil their bodies revise.
And in that scent, find the echo of the sound,
its manifestation: the world passed through
the earthworm’s body
a key in its keyhole,
music through its bell.

Honeybee Exploring Metaphoric Flower

One day last summer, an adventurous (or witty?) honeybee thoroughly investigated the plastic flower design on my watering can.

Honeybee Visiting Chive Blossom

In this time of winter, memories of summer are an oasis. Think back to the honeybee stuffing her pollen basket with the chive's cheerful orange pollen.

Self-Portrait With Bees (A Poem)

SELF-PORTRAIT WITH BEES

Entering the hive
is like falling down a black velvet staircase.

Off come the gloves, the hat, the veil.

Proudly, I pose for my portrait with sweetness,
my portrait with pain.

My Compost, Myself.

Awhile back, I wrote this mini-essay for a literary calendar project a friend of mine was putting together.

Today, in the snowy Catskills, I happened upon it and thought it might be fun to reprise it here. At this phase of the year, the tactile pleasure of handling earthworm-y compost is a fond memory, buried under a foot or so of snow; these days, a trip to empty the compost is a vaguely life-threatening battle with deep snow and icy patches.

I miss the sight, smells, and yes, sounds of robust mid-summer soil. In that spirit, herewith, alongside my freshly unearthed meditation on compost and poetry, are some "action shots" of my beloved compost pile taken over the past couple of years.

In my compost pile at this very moment are: eggshells, a rotted zucchini, strawberry hulls, hot pink earthworms, fish bones, onion skins, hardworking ants, an old copy of The Joy of Cooking, aged cow manure (hauled in buckets from a farm pile 10 miles away where I force my girlfriend to take me every summer), deadheaded daffodils, weeds whose names I won’t bore you with, teabags, and the shredded drafts of old poems.

I love the idea of my words returning to the earth, since the inspiration for much of my writing and more and more of my living is the world of nature.Compost Happens, says a popular bumper sticker, but I think of compost the way I think of poetry: a process of thoughtful addition, disciplined editing, experimentation, and alchemy. Just the right amount of attention is required: too little, and you get a cold pile of nothing; too much, and you overwork the magic. Words squirm together on the page and life is born, but if the artistic choices aren’t right, you wind up with a stinking anaerobic sludge.

Like compost, writing should startle and surprise. My compost pile has revealed spotted salamanders, red-bellied snakes, handsome toad-elders, iridescent beetles, moles, voles, stupendously handsome red-bellied snakes, and luminescent worms so thin they’re barely there at all—each and every one of these animalitos de dios evoking a sense of gratitude and awe akin to the very best (and rarest) moments of creative pursuit. Like writing, compost is deep.

* * * *

Bonus compost-sagas:
Composted asparagus deciding it doesn't want to be compost. (Yes, I replanted it.)

Composted almond deciding to give it a go.

A snail "riding the wave" of an old cookbook.

Bee Watching

How about a gorgeous slide show of New York City bees to get your wintry mind rolling in a summerly direction?

Poem

I am every day
looking at the flowers.

This is the gift the bees
have given me.

Might Mighty Mite Have Met Its Match?

Research is under way to genetically tweak Varroa mites in such a way as to cause them to "self-destruct."

Much as I'd love to see an end to the serious troubles Varroa destructor brings to honeybees, I'm always leery of this level of human intervention—so rarely do such things go as planned; so often do they bring an avalanche of unanticipated (and unwanted) consequences.

Take a look at this recent news item about the Varroa destructor self-destruction study and let me know what you think.

Honeybee Luv

Queen of The Sun Teaser Clip from Taggart Siegel on Vimeo.

Holiday Gifts for Beekeepers and Friends of Bees

Continuing our (more or less) annual tradition of scouting out great gifts for beekeepers, we proudly present Global Swarming Honeybees' 2010 holiday gift list for the beeks, bee-lovers, gardeners, and ecosystem appreciators in your life.

1. First things first: Without a healthy planet, there are no healthy bees—or healthy anything. Honor your family members and friends with a donation in their name to an environmental organization. Two of my favorite earth-defenders are the Natural Resources Defense Council (which, among its many activities, has done great work to fight pesticides that harm bees) and The Center for Biological Diversity, which fearlessly fights for "a world where the wild is still alive." Other good groups include Friends of the Earth, The Xerces Society, and The Nature Conservancy.

2. Bookworm Beek Nirvana: Your book-loving beloveds will surely enjoy Honeybee Democracy, Thomas Seeley's book on "hive mind" and Rose-Lynn Fisher's Bee, a truly awesome visual feast of bee anatomy, rendered via scanning electron microscope. For those with an interest in homesteading, Philip Ackerman-Leist's Up Tunket Road looks like a refreshingly thoughtful and candid take on the subject.
3. Greening the Season of Sneezes: Two years ago, I converted from a lifelong Kleenex addict to a cotton handkerchief aficionado. My guilt over trashing a perfectly good tree every time I blow my nose is now a thing of the past, and my delicate schnoz greatly prefers a soft cottony dab when cold season arrives. Fun and beautiful retro hankies can be found in many thrift shops and antique markets—and believe me, once you make the change, you'll never go back. Consider making an eco-friendly stocking stuffing of this fabulous bee-inflected silkscreened handkerchief or of Muji's non-bee-related but profoundly stylish "historic city" handkerchief series featuring the cities of Tokyo, London, Paris, and NYC.4. Go Goth: For the hipster beek in your life, check out this stingingly cool vespid-inspired T-shirt, this scintillating bee girl silhouette magnet, or this alluring Acorn Queen.
5. iBeek Incidentals: Your iPhone-wielding beekeeper might enjoy the Bee Calm and Carry On iPhone Case or this possibly too cute bee-inspired slider case. iPhone, iPad, and iPod Touch users will get a kick out of the new game app, "Bee Patrol."
6. Stripey, Warming Fun: This handmade, yellow-and-black "buzzy bee" hat comes sized for children and (thankfully!) adults, so your entire social network can, should they so choose and should you be so generous, float around town with merry antennae aflutter and hive minds in perfect sync. Take the whole festive scene over the top with these Dickensian, bee-inspired fingerless gloves.
7. Pour It On: I'm wild about these fanciful pottery pieces from apualek. From the "Biking Bee in Flowers" bowl and "Biking Bee Chasing Rose" tumbler to the cheery yellow "Kayaking Bee" pitcher shown below, these marvelous pieces of usable art will thrill anyone with a good imagination, an appreciation of the handmade, and a love of pouring liquids in high style.
8. Share the Love: Native bees are in trouble throughout the U.S. and across the planet. Who better than beekeepers and bee allies to lend a helping hand by providing habitat in the form of an attractive bee box nest made of recycled wood for our native populations of leaf-cutter bees and mason bees?
9a. Kitchen-y Bee: I have a thing for tea towels, so it's no surprise I'm taken with this rustic Queen Bee burlap towel...and this retro-style embroidered gem.
9b. I also have a thing for tote bags, especially this honeybear tote from Kenspeckle Press, which provides "19th century solutions to 21st century quandaries." (Don't neglect to ogle the wonderful letterpress honeybear cards while you're ambling around this charming corner of cyberspace.)
10. Wrap It Up: To personalize your gift, try these handsome, vintage-style honeybee tags, these super-sweet, hybridized honeybee/French Bulldog greeting cards, and/or this funky wrapping paper.For additional ideas, check out my holiday gift lists for beekeepers from years gone by. I hope your holidays are sweet and rich in the non-material joys of living.

Song of the Unsung Pollinator

Thanks to Bug Girl's Blog for surfacing this gem!

The Great Pumpkin Bee (Happy Halloween)

A she-bee visits the fruits of her labor...a hefty, bee-pollinated pumpkin. Happy Halloween!

"Winterizing"

The bees are "winterized"—their entrances reduced, mouse protection added, and sky-blue sheets of Styrofoam insulation placed atop and along the false back of every hive.

Two of three look good to go. The third seems a little quiet, but time will tell. All three hives have been left their honey; I didn't harvest this fall and it will be interesting to see whether, with nothing stolen from them, they make it OK. So much depends upon the weather; the weather, luck, and whatever secret strengths or deficits reside inside those mysterious wooden hives with their brilliant clusters of thrumming beings.

Geese are passing overhead now, not just daily, but hourly. And so begins the countdown to winter which, for me (and for the bees?) is really just a countdown to spring.

Honoring John Lennon's 70th Birthday

Well, you know, John and I share a birthday in common and he's always been real important to me, so I'd like to share this on what would have been his 70th birthday.

Gives bees a chance.