Some Thoughts on Bees and the Holiday Season

There is a large Western Sycamore tree down at the bottom of our road, near the arroyo, which is home to a colony of bees. When the weather was warmer, I loved standing near the hive, listening to the hum of the bees as they busied themselves flying back and forth from the ubiquitous flower blossoms that bloom on our hill to their home base, their legs and backs covered with the pollen with which they would manufacture their food.

Honeybees have had a rough time of it the past decade or so, many of them dying off due to a parasite that infected the non-native bees (honeybees are of European origin), but, thankfully, left native bees (such as bumblebees) untouched. And while honeybees are a non-native species, they are an invaluable alien, pollinating our food crops, ensuring America remains a land of plenty. But we don’t seem to have a problem here in our neighborhood. Bees are plentiful. They even come by our back yard to take a drink out of our bird bath every once in a while.

It’s cold here now in the Hacienda Hills. It’s been in the thirties and forties in the early morning hours, warming only to the fifties during the day. I know for those of you who live in other parts of the country, this doesn’t seem cold, but for Southern California, it’s freezing. Scott and I sleep under a huge pile of blankets, because we have no furnace in our little cottage on the hill. A pile of cats snuggle between us and offer us warmth, as we offer the same to them. Somehow, other than exposed noses, we stay warm.

Now, when I walk my dog Chia down the road in the early morning, I look at the sycamore tree and find the hive silent. The bees have buried themselves deep inside and gone into their winter cluster, huddled around the queen, the worker bees shivering to keep the entire hive warm. Later in the day, when it warms a bit, the bees may make a few short flights from the hive to check out what is blooming and to eliminate waste. The forays are short; to remain outdoors too long in fifty-degree temperatures would mean death to the bees. But mostly, they seem to know when to return to the hive. I have found very few chilled, sluggish bees on the road.

I feel like those bees, snuggled under my pile of blankets and cats, waiting for the return of the sun, of warmth. Winter Solstice is this Thursday, the shortest day of the year, but also the day that signals the return of the sun. Every day for the next six months, we’ll have a few more minutes of light, of sunshine, of warmth. And as those days pass, we’ll shed a few more of those blankets and, like the bees, shiver a little less, and venture a little farther outside our warm nest.

With the passing Solstice, the Sun will be reborn. For pagans such as myself, it signifies not just the rebirth of light, but the rebirth of the Earth as well, as She begins to warm and ready herself—and us—for a new Circle on the Great Wheel of the seasons. We celebrate by burning a Yule log, or decorating our homes with evergreen trees and wreaths, and perhaps cooking a festive meal.

My daughter is Jewish, and for her and other Jews around the world, tonight is the first night of Hannukah, the Festival of Lights. For the next eight nights, she will light yet another candle on her menorah and, like her pagan mother, engage in festive meals and grateful celebration of the gift of light.

For Christians, this is the time of year when the Son is born, their savior who brings light to their world. Christmas trees, like Yule trees, are gaily lit, holiday dinners planned. Churches see an increase in traffic, as pews fill to standing-room only capacity. My dad was a Protestant minister; he used to joke at Christmas Eve services that he saw faces in the congregation he hadn’t seen since the previous Easter. There is something about Christmas that brings even lapsed Christians back into the fold.

I don’t care what your personal belief system is, although I do hope you take comfort in some sort of sacred, spiritual belief. I respect your right to choose what belief is right for you, just as I have chosen the path that is right for me. Yet, I can’t help but notice the similarities in our beliefs, especially at this time of year.

Spell it Sun or Son, celebrate with a Christmas tree, a Yule log, or a lit menorah, this is the time when the light is born, bringing warmth and hope to us all—people and bees alike. As the days grow longer, they will once again stir in their warm hive in the Sycamore tree; they will venture out to gather pollen, to pollinate the blossoms of the orange and avocado trees, the California buckeye and geranium, to make food for their hive, their tribe. The Great Wheel will turn, and with it, the cycle of life.

No matter how you choose to celebrate, may you all have a wonderful holiday season, filled with light, filled with love, and filled with blessings.

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