Here at Glory Bee Farm, we have several humans who help take care of the beehives.
Linda Di Gloria, LMT, MA,
As a third-generation beekeeper, it’s in the genes! There isn’t anything more exciting to me than working with bees. As a job, waking up and going to work helping save them is fulfilling on so many levels. I am always excited to talk about bees, work with the bees, and writing about them opens the door for many others to take a peek into the insect that is responsible for two main food groups: Coffee and chocolate. Really, they should be main food groups.
Linda has been writing since she could hold a pencil and earned a master degree in English and Literature. Because most of her creative writing is creative non-fiction, it makes sense to offer a fun, fictional story that can educate humans about the honeybee.
Momma Fran Petrow
Bio of an Old Beekeeper
My father was a back-yard beekeeper. I do not remember when he started this wonderful hobby, but I knew he loved the bees, and he loved honey. He wanted to teach me beekeeping and being
in the 4 H club, I was an eager student. It was like being on a different planet. They had their own language, they did lots of jobs that I had never heard about, and they helped the farmers.
Several years into my own beekeeping adventure disaster struck. I came home from school to see a government truck in the long driveway. My mother and the inspector had been sitting on the
porch waiting for my arrival. It seemed the bees had a disease, “American Foul Brood”. Because this was very contagious and could, in fact, wipe out the entire bee industry, they had to be
“Exterminated”. The inspector was very knowledgeable and explained the whole process. We could extract the honey and use it for ourselves but could not give it away.
In those days, honey was hand squeezed in cheese cloth material and the wax was used for candles. The inspector waited until twilight after all the bees had come home for the night. Then he sprinkled the entire hive and all that was in it with a powdered substance that killed all the bees almost instantly. We dug a hole next to the hive and built a fire which was used to burn all the frames, box, top and
bottom and our gloves. I remember crying for a long time, feeling like I had lost my best friend. That was in 1952.
It was decades before I took up beekeeping again. Now I have the joy of beekeeping with my daughter and love being able to share this wonderful insect with yet another generation.