The Powers That Bee

In the center of a meadow grew the Humming Tree, so named for the incredible colony of honeybees that had taken up residence and made their honey throughout the ancient tree.

The tree was a very ordinary sort, but year-round it gave off a scent like fresh baked cookies because for over a century it had been so filled with with honey that it was now a monument to the sweetness life has to offer.

On either side of the meadow there stood a house. Each was grand in its own way. Each had a garden and a gardener. Only one was home to a humbug.

Joseph, just eight years old, and his grandmother lived in one of these houses. Their home was surrounded by an untamed garden that welcomed every kind of flower from riots of roses to what some folks called weeds, but grandmother called medicine.

Instead of a neat green lawn, a field of clover led the way to the front door like a deep carpet.

The bees of the Humming Tree provided honey for Grandmother who suffered from the aches and pains of tending the garden with love and care. The honey from this hive had a very special power to make all of the aches of life go away.

For decades Joseph’s grandmother had welcomed the bees by planting their favorites: Beebalm, Pansies, Snowdrops, Zinnias, Marigolds, Mint, Blackeyed Susans and all the healing plants that flowered there.

She cared for the bees and the bees cared for her by sharing their healing honey for her tea.

In fact, all plants and creatures were welcome there. Granny had taught Joseph how to build homes for birds, bees and even bats.

“Listen, my sweet Joe, we’re bigger - you see,” Granny always said. “And bigger is only better when it’s helping the smaller.”

In the other house, across the meadow, where the lawn was rich and green, cut perfectly short, edges cut deep and true, hedges trimmed just so, where no weed would ever dare to grow, lived Old Man Akin.

Akin was a mower of grass, a hacker of bracken and a puller of anything he even though might be considered a weed.

His real name was Mack McKraken but because he was forever battling nature he complained loudly of the aches and pains that resulted.

“I’m Akin all over,” he would say. The name stuck.

He particularly hated and feared the bees because they tended to surprise him. Akin hated surprises more than he hated untamed gardens.

The only flowers he allowed in his garden were his prize-winning roses. Old Akin had never married. He was too fussy. No woman could ever meet his standards. But his roses, well, they were the loves of his life.

He didn’t like to admit it, but he even went out in the garden early, early in the morning and spoke to them.

“Chin up,” he would say as he strode up and down along the perfectly neat rows of roses, like a general reviewing the troops. “Remember to stay tight. No unfurling until show day. Drink in the water. Soak up the sun.”

He didn’t know that the bees and not his pep talks were the reason his roses were so beautiful. It was their tender care an pollination that made them bloom.

Old Akin took great pains to try and convince Joseph and his Grandmother to mow down their yard to look like his.

“It’s a disgrace to the neighborhood,” Akin chided when he saw Joseph at the Humming Tree one fine afternoon. “And it’s high time you let me get rid of those bees! They’re a nuisance. A menace. A danger to society.”

Grandma peeked out from behind the tree. He hadn’t seen here there. It surprised him, which made him furious.

“Camillia Peters!” Akin yelped. “You’re worse than these miserable buzzing menaces. Think you’re the Queen Bee of this whole neighborhood.”

She let out a laugh like the peel of bells and said, “What neighborhood? It’s just you, me, my sweet Joe and the bees.”

“You really do need to take me up on my offer of tea and honey cakes,” she said. “It would do you no end of good.”

Akin ony said, “Bah!” as he stormed off.

“Hmmmmmm,” thought Ben the honeybee as he perched on a clover near by. “That Akin’s a buzz kill.”

And so it went until one day Ben woke to a rumbling sound coming from away down the road that didn’t quite fit in with all the meadow sounds he knew so well.

He knew the birds, wind, the bark of dogs and the hum of his fellow worker bees quite well. This sound wasn’t right at all.

Ben flew up higher to try and get a better vantage point.

The long, dusty road that snaked across the meadow and back to the town now had a noisy, moving cloud working its way toward the tree.

He loved his hive but right now he wished they would humm a little quieter.

Now, bees can’t actually hear the way other creatures do. Instead of having ears with a tiny part that picks up vibrations, a bee’s entire body – from antennae to every hair – picks up the vibrations and then that vibe passes from one bee to another.

To communicate an important message a bee has to do a sort of shimmying, shaking, vibrating, waggle dance to send the new vibe.

Ben and his fellow workers were all about good vibrations. It was a key ingredient to making healing honey.

The healing honey could take away pain, not just from the body, but from the spirit. Grandmother took it daily in her tea.

Bees start making honey by visiting flowers. They collect the sugary juice or nectar from the blossom.

Then they fly back to the hive where they pass it on with a kiss from one worker to another. It's passed from bee to bee, until the love gradually turns it into honey.

That’s what the bees were all busy doing when Ben buzzed into the middle of the hive and began to waggle for all he was worth.

Unfortunately, by the time the workers stopped droning on about production lines and quotas it was too late. The dust cloud had gotten to the tree and now a hush fell over the hive as the sound of a chainsaw began to ring out across the meadow.

RRRRRAAAAANGGGGGG-A-NANG-A- NAGA it went. The tree shook.

“Come on,” we don’t have all day.” Shouted a man’s voice. “This old tree has to come down. Old Man Akin’s paying us top dollar to have it down quick, fast and in a hurry.”

Ben and the rest of the hive couldn’t quite make out what the man said, but they knew a bad vibe when they felt one coming their way.

Ben summoned Dave, the fastest flier in the hive, to get help.

“Go get Joseph and Granny,” Ben buzzed. Off Dave flew. Seeing the danger, The wind came up and gave him a push.

But by the time Dave found Joseph and got him back the tree, it was too late. It was already felled.

Worse! The Queen Bee had been crushed in the fall.

Joseph found the terrified crew of tree choppers standing in the center of a cloud of angry bees. They were shouting and swatting at the bees.

“I really wouldn’t do that,” Joseph said. “If you want to make it out of there, you need to be sweet. Bees respond to sweetness just like people do. More in fact. They just can’t stay angry at you if you’re sweet.”

Meanwhile, across the meadow…

When he heard the great THUD of the tree hitting the ground, Old Man Akin smiled.

“Ha!,” he crowed in trumph to his roses. “Peace at last.”

The roses shook. All at once their petals fell like tears as the stems sagged in sorrow.

The ground beneath his feet began to shake. The wind came up behind him and shoved him hard saying in his ear, “Come and see what you have done.”

Akin was blown across the meadow. Every step he took, wherever his feet touched the ground the grass moves aside to leave barren prints.

“What’s happening,” he shouted. “What are you doing? Why are you killing everything I touch?”

The Wind howled, “It is you who have tried to destroy life’s sweetness for so long. It was bad enough to make yourself bitter. Now you have done something so terrible that everything you touch will wither.”

But Akin was a stubborn man. Once he made it to the destruction site he shouted at Joseph, “I told you those bees are dangerous! I’ll start a fire and smoke ‘em off and burn the rest of this blasted tree!”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Grandmother said in a voice so firm that even the grass stood a little taller. Akin jumped in surprise. Where had that blasted woman come from?

Hmmmm, she added, “You’ve done quite enough.”

Grandmother was dressed all in yellow with a long, flowing, black scarf. She began to hum as she slowly circled the cloud of bees. Joseph picked up the tune and signaled to the men to do the same.

Then grandmother did the most amazing thing. She began to waggle as she walked, humming louder and louder.

Then she let out a very loud “Whoop whoop!” sound that made the bees stop in mid-air.

“Oh! I see,” Ben buzzed and picked up the waggle dance. “She’s the new Queen!”

Ben buzzed over to Dave for a vibe check. Dave understood.

Dave, who was not just fast at flying but also a champion waggler, dove into the center of the swarm and began to dance the celebration dance for a new Queen.

All at once the vibe of the swarm changed. The angry buzz became a hum. The bees rose into the air as one and hovered above the ruins of their home.

Grandmother stopped her dance, but continued to hum as she placed her hands on the stump of the tree. New shoots sprung up between her fingers.

Then she led the swarm away from the men and across the meadow to her garden. Every step she took left a a footprint that immediately filled with clover.

Joseph, little though he was, took charge and directed the men to get to work boxing up all of the honeycomb-filled pieces of the tree they could. Together they brought it all to Grandmother’s yard and set to work making hives for the bees.

“What about me,” shrieked Old Man Akin as he ran after Grandmother leaving scorched earth in every step. “Camillia Peters! I demand you fix me. You fix me right here and now!”

A wall of rock rose up from the earth and surrounded him. The stone began to vibrate in a deep and resonant tone.

Akin felt the powerful vibe run through his entire body. Suddenly, the sky above the tube went black. A rain of healing honey fell on him until he floated in it like a warm bath.

A long time passed and when he awoke Akin opened his eyes and found that the rock tube and honey had gone. He sat in an enormous field of clover that was so tall it stretched high above him.

He stretched and found that his new wings were wonderfully light. He smelled the most wonderful scent and followed it to the garden where Joseph was planting more flowers. Grandmother sat in the sun.

Ben and Dave buzzed protectively around Grandmother while she sat on a blanket of flowers sipping her tea.

Grandmother held out her hand and the newest bee landed on her palm.

All sound in the garden ceased, the wind held its breath, as everyone waited to see if the bee that was once an angry old man would sting or humm.

The new bee hummed softly and even performed a little waggle dance. Grandmother grinned.

Joseph looked at his grandmother, “You look so happy I can see it shining in your eyes.”

“Well I suppose it’s true what they say.”

“Oh,” said he asked. “What do they say?”

She answered knowingly, “Happiness is in the eyes of the bee holder.”

Author Lisa Suhay performing the first reading of the new fable furing COVID-19 Lockdown, Norfolk, Virginia 2020.