Telling the Bees

     Ancestry. com has provided lots of answers, verifying my innate passion for the Low Country, as so many of my father's relatives from Europe settled there, in the coastal wilds of Georgia and South Carolina. I knew that England and Germany (mother's side) were definite origins, and that my Dad always loved England as well as Georgia and South Carolina. At one point, he was thinking of moving the family from Florida to Coastal Georgia. One of the phrases I remembered he used on occasion was "telling the bees," and I swear I thought it was a dismissal to my many questions growing up. As in, "I don't want to listen to you. Go tell the bees." I was quite annoying in that respect. Probably in a lot of other ways, too, and most likely still am. 

    Well, lo and behold, I read an article about "telling the bees," which I happened upon quite by chance. It was in an article written by Bailey Gilliam, in a magazine, Local Life. Here's the explanation of the old, Low Country coastal (and British) tradition:, and some parts are paraphrased:

    "When love is lost or gained, one is supposed to alert the bees of the news. Historically, it is said that if the bees were not told of the important events in their keeper's lives, such as marriages, deaths, departures or returns in the household, a penalty would result on the hive and possibly even the family. If the bees aren't 'put into mourning' or 'invited to celebrate,' they may leave the hive, stop the production of honey or even die."

    "While little is known about the origins of the tradition, it is speculated that it was inspired by the ancient Aegean concept of the bee's ability to bridge the gap between the natural world and the afterlife. The custom of telling the bees is best known to be practiced in England but has also been recorded in most of (Northern Europe). In previous centuries, apiarists would drape black cloths over the hives to put the bees in mourning or bring them cake for weddings or births as a celebratory invitation. When the beekeeper died, the hive would be served (food presented at the funeral), turned to face the burial site and be told that their keeper had passed away."

    "Even today, people still say 'go tell the bees.' For many, even those who aren't superstitious (or have hives as a source of income or personal use), telling the bees of love and loss can be an enormous help in the grieving process. If something is weighing on you, it might be worth a try to find a hive and go tell the bees."

    Infinitely interesting to me, although I haven't carried on the tradition of telling the bees to my own progeny. At one point, I did have plans to install beehives on my four acres in Kentucky, which was purchased along with the building, when the big move to Kentucky was made in the early 2000's. This was a beautiful, hilly pastureland, planted in clover, that my former husband and I had planned to build a house on, or at the very least, revert the existing barn into a place of residence. It was only about two miles from the downtown area, and literally, a perfect place to exist. I buried my two Scotties, Rita and Lucy, on that land, on the highest part, by natural boulders, and never thought that a scant couple of years later, I'd be leaving it all behind to begin again. Divorce not only rids you of your spouse and in my case, best friend, it also evaporates any hopes and dreams you may have had with that marriage. Our plans to go to learn the art of beekeeping at a local Master Gardener's class (which I actually completed later on) so that we could have hives on the property were dissolved. However, even though they were not "our" hives, beehives were indeed placed there by a beekeeper from Maysville, who gifted us with the tastiest clover/lavendar honey I have ever had.

    I like the old phrases like telling the bees. Learning about the Gullah GeeChee and Low Country traditions have always been a big part of my soul in some mysterious way. The fact that I could suddenly remember this little forgotten phrase from childhood from a random paragraph in a magazine decades later is amazing to me.