Seasonal observations, honeybee encounters, bee-friendly backyards, and reflections from life around the hive.
Sometimes the smallest surprise in nature changes the way we see the world. A return visit to Heckscher State Park, a tiny patch of Brown-eyed Susans, and Emily Wilde's faeries reminded me that careful observation often leads to unexpected connections.
During a summer run at Hempstead Lake State Park, I found myself noticing something unexpected. The invasive plants I'd grown used to seeing across Long Island were missing, replaced by native flowers that support pollinators and restore the landscape.
I came to Caumsett State Park for a 5K summer run, but it was the Walled Garden—with its towering Russian sage, busy honey bees, and remarkable brick wall—that stole the evening.
A watermelon rind, a shovel, and a backyard with lifeless soil led to an unexpected Fourth of July reflection about earthworms, healthy gardens, and the dirt beneath our feet.
I encouraged everyone to grow with me this spring. What I didn't expect was that I'd be the one breaking all the rules. From squirrel disasters to rabbit candy, here's a June update from my own patio garden.
Do bees fly in the rain? When a summer 5K was canceled due to storms, I looked to my backyard honey bees for the answer and set out on a rainy run of my own.
A windy evening at Sunken Meadow State Park led to an unexpected question: how do honey bees remember their way home? From orientation flights to flower schedules, the answer is remarkable.
The summer run series at Heckscher State Park became a fragrant reminder of how honey bees use scent to find flowers, navigate their world, and remember where food can be found.
Running shoes, state parks, and a beekeeper who can't stop looking at plants. Run along with The Queen Bee.
Follow a spring run through Welwyn Preserve, where a beekeeper discovers honeysuckle, Rugosa roses, black locust blossoms, and an unexpected gathering of honey bees along the shores of the Long Island Sound.
