The Beekeeper

The siren song of the calico aster calls out brightly

At a distance, calico aster is not much to behold. The quiet green of its leaves overpowers its tiny white flowers. Entangled in the undergrowth along the edges of forests, it is often overlooked. People dismiss the plants as weeds outlying their yards. It often grows in that narrow row between the trees and roadways filling in the ditches and spaces, hardly acknowledged, existing only in the peripheries.

Yet in late September when the calico aster is blooming it is covered with bees.

The beekeeper will follow the specific hum of little creatures’ wings to these derelict places and find glory there. To be down on hands and knees, inches away and at eye level with the aster is to be in the midst of a frenetic little world. These places are alive and exuberant, especially when the sun shines on them. The beekeeper wonders if warmth makes the fragrance of the aster more intense and therefore more inviting to her small charges. Each encounter with the honey bees is a wonderment at the world; curiosity and imaginings that turn out treasures of knowledge and enjoyment.

The white flowers of calico aster are extraordinary up close. They draw bees and insects by the score to their multicolored centers of deep mauve purples and amber yellows. They are New Hampshire’s wildflowers, sweet and abundant nectaries that attract all the native pollinators. Teeming with activity the air around these clusters of weeds becomes vibrant, as though filled with an electric current. It’s the buzzing. The frequency of the bees as they alight from flowers in an intoxicating rhythm. The tone that fills the beekeeper’s soul.

The honey bees appear to glow when the sunlight shines through their stomachs after they have drunk flowers and are dusted in golden pollen! The beekeeper is captivated by the transfer of energy within their guts and upon their wingbeats.

When she stands up and steps away from the din of the calico aster patch, she feels a bit empty. The energy of the bees has filled her chest and resonated within her heart. As she draws up to her full height, away from the song and excitement of the busy field work, the effect is disquieting and somehow isolating. She will never again see that unassuming and undervalued plant as anything less than magnificent. She looks to the edge of her yard, to the limits of her vision and recognizes that the complexities of life are really quite simple and beautiful, and thrive in the wild places.