bee

by Bill Tiepelman

Queen of the Gossamer Hive

The Buzzening It began on a Tuesday, which was already suspicious. Tuesdays have a way of feeling like Mondays in a cheaper outfit, and this one had a particularly uncanny vibe—like reality was wearing its seams inside out. Desmond Flarrow, mild-mannered beekeeper and semi-retired baritone, stood ankle-deep in clover, admiring his hive and nursing a lukewarm thermos of chamomile gin. It was his daily ritual: check the bees, mutter something poetic, then go inside and pretend to write a novel. But today, something was... humming. Not just the usual bee buzz, but a rich, harmonic vibration that shimmered through the air like a choir of tuning forks singing in Latin. The clover swayed as though tickled by unseen hands, and the sky—was that glitter? From the heart of Hive 7, the one Desmond always suspected was a little “extra,” erupted a flash of gold and cobalt light. The top of the hive popped off like a champagne cork, releasing a scent somewhere between caramel thunder and ancient spellbook. Then, from the misty interior, she emerged. Not a queen bee. The Queen. The mother of buzz. The feathered empress of nectar. She hovered five feet in the air, wings vibrating with lace-like precision, her fur a velvet tapestry of burnt orange, turquoise, and secrets. Eyes like midnight gemstones. She was part insect, part divine fashion statement, and 100% not supposed to be real. "Hello, Desmond," she said, her voice like wind chimes at a burlesque show. "I’m Queen Aurelia. We’ve got work to do." Desmond, to his credit, only spilled half his gin. Before he could ask how or why a bee was speaking to him—and doing it with more charisma than most mayors—Queen Aurelia extended a wing, traced a circle in the air, and opened a glowing portal made entirely of honeycomb patterns and electric tangerine light. "You’ve been chosen," she said. "You’re not just a beekeeper, Desmond. You’re the Keeper of the Old Nectar." "The what-now?" he stammered, already feeling the pull of the portal. His feet lifted off the ground as if the grass had given up on gravity. He floated toward the opening, gin thermos still clutched in one trembling hand. "You’ll understand soon," she purred. "But for now, hold on tight. We’re going beyond the veil. And there’s a bureaucratic centipede who owes me a favor." And with that, they vanished into the glowing vortex, leaving only a scorched clover patch and a very confused squirrel behind. The Nectarverse Bureaucracy and the Dance of Seven Stingers Desmond landed not with a thud, but with the disconcerting squelch of a mushroom sofa. The realm around him pulsed with soft light and whispered in six dialects of Bee. He was inside the Nectarverse—a hidden dimension somewhere between dream logic, jazz improv, and the inside of a Fabergé egg. Everything sparkled, but also somehow smelled faintly of smoked paprika and regret. Queen Aurelia fluttered beside him, radiating confidence and pheromonal majesty. “Welcome to Central Apis,” she declared. “The capital of the pollinational multirealm.” “It’s... weirdly moist,” Desmond muttered, brushing a small constellation of glittering beetles off his shoulder. One of them gave him a tiny thumbs-up. He would later discover this was a political gesture, and he had accidentally committed to sponsoring a dung beetle election campaign. They were greeted by a footman—a centipede in a waistcoat with a monocle on each of his first eight eyes. “Her Majesty Queen Aurelia, Sovereign of Pollenlight, Duchess of Dandelion Dust, and Keeper of the Forbidden Buzz,” he intoned. “And... guest.” Desmond waved sheepishly. “Hi. Just here for the ride, honestly.” Queen Aurelia ignored the formalities. “We need a pass to the Blooming Courts. The Queen of Hornets is stirring again.” The centipede sniffed and unfurled a scroll longer than a tailgate party. “You’ll need to submit Form Bee-17B, request an audience with the Floral Conclave, and schedule a pollen audit. Oh, and your human companion must undergo the Trial of Seven Stingers.” Desmond’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry—the what?” He was immediately whisked away by a swarm of very polite moths in tuxedos, leaving Aurelia behind with the centipede and some impressively tense diplomatic stares. He was flown into a glowing amphitheater made of thistleglass and echoing with murmurs of ancient pollen law. At the center: a circle of thrones shaped like giant flower pistils. On each sat a member of the **Council of Seven Stingers**, draped in pollen-robes and judging everyone with the kind of intensity usually reserved for drag queens and dental hygienists. “State your nectar lineage!” one barked. “Um. I like honey in my tea?” “Unacceptable!” shouted another. “Perform the Dance of Seven Stingers or face eternal reclassification as Floral Debris!” Desmond, not a man of movement, stared into the glowing dance pit. Music began: part techno, part beeswax gospel. A drone passed him a glittering leotard with sequins that spelled “BUZZWORTHY” in six languages. The choice was clear: dance or die. What followed was thirty-seven minutes of increasingly erratic flailing, interpretive twirls, and one accidental summoning of a pollen storm spirit named Todd. The crowd roared. The Council wept. One old wasp knight whispered, “He has the nectar in him.” Back in the foyer of fragrant madness, Queen Aurelia was sipping nectar out of a chalice shaped like a tulip martini glass when Desmond returned, panting and slightly radioactive. “Did I pass?” he croaked. “Oh yes,” she beamed. “Not only did you pass, you’re now legally considered a Demi-Buzz Entity. It comes with dental.” With the bureaucratic nonsense cleared, Aurelia flared her wings, casting dazzling patterns of sacred geometry across the realm. The air vibrated with anticipation. “Now,” she said, “to the Blooming Courts. The Queen of Hornets is plotting to rewrite the Floral Constitution. And I need someone who can dance the unholy pollen out of her.” Desmond blinked. “You want me to dance again?” “Oh, sweetheart,” she smirked, “we’re just getting started.” And with that, they vanished once more into a swirl of chromatic light, ready to face conspiracy, chaos, and at least one ballroom showdown that would be remembered in bee folklore for centuries to come.     🛍️ Take a Piece of the Hive Home If you’re still buzzing from Desmond’s dance of destiny and Queen Aurelia’s gilded glory, why not bring a bit of that enchantment into your own realm? Canvas prints of Queen of the Gossamer Hive capture every luminous detail, while the tapestry turns your wall into a portal to the Nectarverse itself. Sip your own brew like a demi-buzz deity with a mug, cuddle up with a throw pillow, or flaunt your allegiance to the hive with a tote bag. And yes, there’s even a sticker for those of you who want to make your laptop or journal 86% more royal. Long live the buzz!

by Bill Tiepelman

The Pollination Whisperer: A Fairy's Tale

In the kingdom where petals serve as palettes and the air vibrates with the hum of industrious bees, there lived a fairy known to all as Flora, the Pollination Whisperer. With locks as fiery as the dawn and wings that caught the morning light, she dedicated her life to the dance of pollination, a ballet vital to the vibrancy of her floral home. Flora's domain was a sun-kissed meadow, awash with blooms that swayed on the breath of the wind, each waiting for the tender touch of a bee to continue the cycle of life. But the bees of this meadow were young, inexperienced in the ways of the flowers' waltz. It was Flora’s calling to guide these buzzing novices in the delicate art of pollination, ensuring that each flower received the kiss of life that only a bee could provide. Her training ground was a single cosmo, its petals stretching wide like pink and white sails. Here, Flora would teach the youngest of bees, who buzzed nervously at the edge of petals, unsure of their role in this grand design. "Come, little ones," she would call, her voice as sweet as nectar. "Follow my lead and feel the rhythm of the garden." With grace, she demonstrated how to cradle the pollen, how to bow to the flower’s heart, and how to carry the golden dust to the next bloom with reverence. One bee, in particular, a fuzzy creature with an eager spirit, watched Flora with wide, wonder-filled eyes. This bee, whom Flora fondly named Buzz, was keen but clumsy, often tumbling into the pollen rather than gathering it with purpose. "Patience, Buzz," Flora would chide gently. "It’s not about the haste of the flight but the grace of your journey. The flowers will wait for you, for they know their fate lies within your wings." And so, under the tutelage of Flora, Buzz began to learn. Each day brought a new lesson, a new flower, and a new part of the meadow to explore. The cosmos, the daisies, the wild lavender that grew by the brook — each had a secret to share, a piece of the puzzle that was the meadow’s lifeline. As the days warmed and the meadow thrived under Flora's tutelage, Buzz grew more adept in his flights. The fairy's lessons had transformed the eager bee into a skilled pollinator, his body dusted with the gold of countless flowers. Buzz's confidence soared as high as his flights, each loop and swoop a testament to the wisdom imparted by the Pollination Whisperer. Then came the day of Buzz's first solo foray. The sun rose, casting the meadow in a soft glow, the perfect stage for Buzz's debut. "Remember," Flora whispered, "each flower is a friend, and the pollen they share is a treasure to be cherished and spread with care." Buzz took to the air, his wings beating in harmony with the pulse of the meadow. Flora watched with pride as her protégé approached a bloom, his technique flawless, his respect for the task at hand evident. The other bees hummed in appreciation, recognizing the dance they too would master in time. With every successful visit, the flowers stood a little taller, their colors a little more vivid. The meadow was alive with the energy of life being nurtured, a symphony orchestrated by the gentle whispers of a fairy and the buzz of a bee's wings. Flora's heart swelled with joy as she observed the fruits of her labor. This was her legacy—not just the flowers that bloomed with unmatched splendor but the knowledge that she had nurtured a new generation of bees, the custodians of the meadow's future. As the day waned, Buzz returned to Flora, his journey complete. "You have done well, my little friend," she said. "You have danced the dance of life, and the meadow sings your praises. You, Buzz, are no longer a novice but a guardian of our precious garden." Under the watchful eye of the evening star, the meadow settled into a contented silence. Flora, the Pollination Whisperer, took her customary place upon a moonlit leaf, her thoughts as serene as the night. The meadow was more than a home; it was a canvas of continuous creation, its beauty an everlasting bloom nurtured by the dance between the fairies, the bees, and the endless whisper of the flowers.     Bring the Pollination Whisperer's World into Yours The whispering wings of Flora and the diligent dance of Buzz have inspired a delightful array of items, each designed to sprinkle a bit of their magic into your life. From the tranquility of your home to the bustle of your daily routine, let the Pollen Charmed Collection remind you of the meadow's symphony. Adorn your walls with the vivid imagery of the Pollen Charmed Poster, capturing the glow of Flora's wings and the zeal of Buzz's flight. It's more than art; it's a visual sonnet to the meadow's harmony, a piece of the fairy's world in your own dwelling. Infuse your office with the garden's grace with a Pollen Charmed Mouse Pad. Every movement across its surface is a reminder of the precise beauty of Flora's pollination dance, turning your daily tasks into moments of joy. Immerse yourself in the intricacies of their world with the Pollen Charmed Jigsaw Puzzle. Each piece is a step deeper into the meadow, a celebration of the wonder that unfolds when elements combine to create a picture of natural splendor. Spread the warmth of the meadow's sun with a heartfelt note on a Pollen Charmed Greeting Card. Convey your sentiments on a canvas that blooms with the fairy's tender care and the bee's boundless enthusiasm. Jot down your own chronicles and discoveries in the Pollen Charmed Spiral Notebook. Let each page serve as a petal on which to spill your thoughts, dreams, and the day's musings, enveloped in the aura of the meadow's life force. For the wanderers and the dreamers, carry a fragment of the fairy's domain wherever you roam with the Pollen Charmed Tote Bag. It stands as a symbol of life's interconnected tapestry, a companion that holds the essence of Flora’s and Buzz’s dedication to the world's blossoming beauty. Allow the Pollen Charmed Collection to be a gentle nudge, a soft murmur in your day, urging you to find the extraordinary in the ordinary, much like our fairy and her faithful bee amidst the dance of the meadow.