Bees With Attitude

Writing engages both emotions and intellect, but it’s primarily a mental exercise. Sometimes I need to get out of my head and back into the physical world. For that, there is nothing as satisfying as dirt. Dogs roll in it. Children make mud pies. Adults are just as entranced, but they call it gardening.

My fondness for grubbing in the yard intersects nicely with character research into herbalism and the healing arts. Many of my stories involve magic, witches, herbwives, or even just medicines from a period when people brewed their own tinctures and syrups. Sensory information—the touch/taste/scent of plants—is excellent detail sure to pull readers right into a scene.  Plus, I can use the results in the kitchen. It’s a win/win all around, especially since I’m all about creating an oasis from the concrete and chaos of the urban environment.

It’s impossible to garden without forming an acquaintance with pollinators, especially bees. We tend to think of honeybees as the main event, but they aren’t native to North America and in fact have pushed out some of their native cousins. A few years ago, I began hatching mason bees, which are small critters local to my area, and got a bumper crop of apples as a thank-you. It’s March, and I’m still eating last year’s produce—a significant savings at the grocery till.

Mason bees build their nests with mud walls between each egg (hence the name). They’re also called orchard bees. They’re active from around April to June and do most of the fruit tree pollination. Their range is only a few city lots, so it makes sense to put up a bee house to guarantee their services.

Where I have trouble is encouraging them to nest—I put out the cocoons and they hatch just fine, but they never stick around to lay their eggs. The sense of failure is real. It’s like getting one-star reviews from your spa visitors. This year, I’ve put up a house built by a local expert who has far more experience in bee accommodations.

The other thing I’ve considered is the menu. While dandelions are plentiful, they aren’t native and don’t have enough nutrition. Good-for-bees flowers will vary widely depending on geography, so I went to an indigenous plant nursery. This was fun—the place had very little I was familiar with, even though the seedlings on offer actually belong to this part of the world.

I came out with Sea Blush (Plectritis congesta). It’s a pretty purple flower from the Valerian family that grows wild in the Pacific Northwest, and it will feed the young mason bees when they hatch. Hopefully it’s a crowd-pleaser!

Yes, that’s a lot of random information about bees, but gardens need them. It’s estimated that one out of every three bites of food we eat depends on bee pollination.

Another cool fact about mason bees? Every female is a queen.

I love the attitude.