A Spoon Full of Honey

“Honey, healthful honey, two silvers a jar,” called out Rozália at the morning market. Within no time, her entire stock was sold.

“I don’t know how you do it, child, but when I put a spoonful of your honey into my morning tea, all my aches and pains fade away; perhaps you are a witch who put a spell on it,” laughed Miss Horváth.

“Well, thank you for the compliment, but I am just a beekeeper, and I know of no magic other than treating your bees well makes the best-tasting honey,” said Rozália with a smile.

The beekeeper packed her basket, bought two loaves of bread, and returned home along the dirt road.

“Mie, Mie, do you have any honey left? My feet are swollen today, and walking is hard,” hollered Nana Meska, who still called Rozália by her childhood name.

“No, Nana, but I will drop a jar off this afternoon once I check the hives,” replied Rozália.

Rozália set the bread on the table and retrieved a small jar of honey from the cupboard. Making her way back up the road, Rozália stepped off the road into an apple orchard where dozens of bee hives were neatly arranged among the trees.

“Hello, my beauties. How are we this fine morning?” asked the keeper. A dozen bees flew around her head and settled on her arms.

“Tonight is a full moon. Please tell the queen to pick a hive to take for your dance,” whispered Rozália. The bees flew off, leaving Rozália to inspect each hive visually for damage.

After Rozália dropped off the honey at Nana Meska’s, she returned home to have a bowl of hot borscht with her bread.

“I hope I am not pushing my bees too hard; so many people want my honey now; I worry it’s too much for them,” remarked the beekeeper.

When the sun fell beneath the horizon, Rozália grabbed her bag and walked to the orchard. Circling the orchard, Rozália saw that one hive had dozens of bees dancing on its top.

“So the queen has selected you; well, no time to waste. Let’s be off,” said the keeper, securing the hive’s opening and picking it up by the handle.

She carefully walked the ancient path that led to the standing stones near the moor. Rozália set the hive on the old stump she had arranged near the altar, then opened it, releasing the bees to begin their dance.

As the moon rose, the bees performed a beautiful aerial ballet lit by Rozália candle. They swirled and spun in circles around the old standing stones.

When the moon reached its zenith, Rozália walked up to the hive, bowed, and blew out the candle—it was time for the bees to return to the hive and head back to the orchard.

Rozália talked to the bees as if they were best friends on a moonlight stroll. “I see how you recieve the ancient magic from the druid stones. After the dance, your bodies glow with energy, which must be what heals the people,” said the keeper.

The following morning, the Rozália was back at the market with a line of weary folk anxious to secure a jar of her honey. “I don’t know what I will do with winter coming,” complained Mrs. Nussbaum.

“I’m sure you’ll manage as you have in the past. Also, my bees need a rest. They work so hard for all of you, so please let them rest,” said Rozália.

The crowd bowed in shame, knowing they had thought only of themselves and not of the hard-working bees. That evening, Rozália sat next to her hives and sang an ancient lullaby to help them fall asleep.

“Thank you, my friends. You bring so much happiness to the people, and now winter is here, so rest well,” said the keeper, who courtesy then laughed to herself as if to say, “Thank you, my lady, for a wonderful dance.”

Rozália slept well, knowing she had brought a little bit of golden goodness into the world—and that’s not bad when you’re a beekeeper.