honey bee on yellow rose
Veiled in this fragile filigree of wax is the essence of sunshine, golden and limpid, tasting of grassy meadows, mountain wildflowers, lavishly blooming orange trees, or scrubby desert weeds. Honey, even more than wine, is a reflection of place. If the process of grape to glass is alchemy, then the trail from blossom to bottle is one of reflection. The nectar collected by the bee is the spirit and sap of the plant, its sweetest juice. Honey is the flower transmuted, its scent and beauty transformed into aroma and taste.
— Stephanie Rosenbaum, “Honey: From Flower to Table”
honeycomb
Just as when the bee visits the flower, it does not destroy its fragrance and beauty,
but only removes the sweet nectar.
A true human being, when going out into the world, practices like that.
She looks straight ahead and walks mindfully. — Kakusandha Buddha
but only removes the sweet nectar.
A true human being, when going out into the world, practices like that.
She looks straight ahead and walks mindfully. — Kakusandha Buddha
honey bee on salvia
‘she came, she feasted, she left’
honey bee on clover
honey bee on lamium
A swarm of bees in May
Is worth a load of hay;
A swarm of bees in June
Is worth a silver spoon;
A swarm of bees in July
Is not worth a fly. — Rhyme from England
Is worth a load of hay;
A swarm of bees in June
Is worth a silver spoon;
A swarm of bees in July
Is not worth a fly. — Rhyme from England
