I love nature and can’t imagine living apart from it. I know people do and the idea saddens me. I’d rather not face what’s happening to our earth, but we all need to, and make any and every change we are capable of making.
Before kids, I worked as a naturalist doing environmental education programs at a variety of parks and nature centers.
One of my most eye-opening experiences was working with NYC inner-city kids at an environmental education camp. Most arrived in our tri-state area ‘wilderness’ never having been surrounded by trees instead of buildings, and many were awed. Then we hiked to overlooks and saw trees to the horizon. Kids who did terrible in classrooms, blossomed, and I won’t ever forget that transformation.
I’m no longer working at a nature center, but nature is never far from my heart. (You know that if you’ve followed any of my social media!) Two years ago, my husband took on beekeeping at our church, and I’ve joined him.
This year, I decided to push for more flowering trees to be planted on those grounds and in our neighborhood—specifically flowering trees that support bees.
Some of those species have made it on to this blog, but more can be found on my nature blog at The Squirrel Nutwork. I kind of went overboard and still have 25 of my 47 trees from the local Soil and Water Conservation District to plant. Great resource if you haven’t found it yet!
They are small…but ten years ago I put in this Eastern Redbud and it’s bringing me spring joy today!
My experiences in doing these things that I love—beekeeping and planting trees—have made it into my upcoming novel, Guardian of the Pines. Sixteen-year-old Cor is both tree-crazy and a beekeeper by default. His family estate keeps bees, and though they’ve never been an interest of his—isn’t that usually the way of family endeavors?—his knowledge of beekeeping becomes key to fitting in on the Isle of Giuthas.
Here’s an excerpt from chapter 15:
Not having anything better to do, Cor accompanied the witch to see her family’s hives. At her family’s farm, a cleverly terraced spot carved into the natural contours of a mountainside, she led the way to a barn. He picked through their equipment and selected what he needed—including their mouse guards—and started to leave.
“Bee suit?” She plucked one off a hook.
“I have a different method.”
She gave him a look, but didn’t say anything as she magicked one on. They climbed a flight of stone steps into an orchard, where he tried to keep from gaping. The crowns of apple trees spread overhead, their tips just touching as the mature branches reached out in perfect wheels, arrayed down evenly planted rows. Shiny red apples spotted the first row, a darker, duller variety in the next and a sunny yellow in the third. The rows continued at different levels farther back within the valley and up the mountain, different bark, different branching patterns, different leaves.
Bloody brilliant. He didn’t care what she thought of his city-bred awe. Cor turned to take it all in. Master Harold would be drooling—and this was just the apples. He couldn’t make out the distant species.
Willow had stopped a few paces ahead, waiting with her hands clasped together.
“What…” He cleared his throat. “What varieties do you have?”
“All the usual to provide throughout the year—cherry, apricot, summer sauce apples, plums, pears, peaches, autumn apples, keeping apples. The nut trees are spread up the valley more.”
This and nut trees. Cor shook his head. “The hives?”
“Two terraces up. Not quite the middle, but that lets us check on them”—she grimaced—“when my father isn’t so busy filling in for Mam, who is dealing with Forest rips. Anyway…” She tilted her head. “I hope they aren’t in too awful shape fending for themselves.”
Their bee yard was in a clearing between two terrace walls, four hives made up of two hive bodies each and a fifth with three. Additional hive stands stood empty.
“This isn’t enough hives for the size of your orchard,” he remarked.
“We magic in others during the blooming periods, then move them back afterwards. These are for our honey production.” She was messing with the smoker, stuffing the canister with dried leaves from the ground.
“Hold off a minute,” he said and flooded his skin with his protective magic.
“That’s…interesting,” she said curiously.
He held up his arm, the brown of his skin now shimmering with the honey-colored coating of energy. “It’s a spell I worked up for tree protection to keep insect pests from the new saplings. Gives them a fighting chance on Bonterra’s streets. One day I was too lazy to put on a bee suit and thought, ‘Why not?’ The bees can’t get through, and they seem to be calmer.”
“Likely because you’re calmer. May I?” She held up a finger and, at his nod, pushed at his barrier. “Cor, this is brilliant. I can only imagine the boost it gives to new trees. Why didn’t you show it to Lady Pina?”
He tugged at his earlobe, again missing his earring. “Never had the chance. She’s so dead set against having me that I doubt she’d listen.” He took the hive tool from the bucket of supplies. “Either stand back or zip your veil. It worked fine with the Meadows’ bees, but we should give your workers a few minutes’ test to make sure they’re good.”
He removed the lid of the first hive, pried loose a few frames and lifted one. Full of honey. So were each of the other seven. “I’ll check the bottom box, but it’s looking like you need to add another body of empty frames. These ladies don’t have any room to put their brood for the autumn and winter.”
“The bees are carrying on as if you aren’t even there,” she said. “If you’re fine by yourself for a few minutes, I’ll collect a box and frames and see if my father has time to talk about your recommendations.”
“Make it two more boxes, if you can carry them.” He waved her off. The bees hummed pleasantly around his arms, bouncing off his energy, not bothered by it or him. By the time he’d shuffled through the frames of the second box and started on another of the smaller hives, he’d figured out that these must be split hives from this spring.
“Flights,” someone said in a whispered squeak. “He is doing it without a bee suit.”
Cor turned to find three little boys climbing on the stone wall at the edge of the yard.
“Are you supposed to be cursing?” he asked.
The oldest turned red, and the other two began giggling and smacking him.
“No,” the blond boy mumbled. “Willow said you’d opened the hives without a bee suit on, and we didn’t believe her.”
“Aren’t you afraid you’re gonna be stung?” asked the littlest boy.
“Naw,” he said.
~~~
Maybe today you’ll plant a tree or look into helping the bees. Or maybe you’ll refuse to take a plastic bag or a straw. It all helps. Do what you can. And most of all, enjoy nature on Earth Day and every day!
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