There was not much sweeter than Grandpa Gulliver’s honey. Then again, there was not much that was sweeter than honey. Berries, perhaps, in their short season. Or maple syrup, when they found it. But there were not many maples left anymore, and those she knew of were not particularly generous with their sap now that they had to parse energy for growing.
But there was Grandpa Gulliver’s honey. The slow pouring amber liquid of deliciousness. As valuable and as glorious as gold. The warmth of happy in her mouth.
Grandpa Gulliver had built Hive Homes for the bees. Tiny mansions of industry where workers and queens could shelter from the rain under eaves that shed the snow and cut the wind.
She used to watch the ins-and-outs for hours. The buzz. The promise.
Now they stood desolate.
No bees. No Grandpa Gulliver.
Who knew they’d all be taken, sweetness gone?
For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
Na'ama Yehuda 
Aw, that’s so so sad. 🙄😢
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Yeah. I hope that it doesn’t mean ALL the bees are gone …. though who knows … the rate we’re killing them off, it could become reality before too long …
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Oh don’t say that.I remember reading Silent Spring (Rachel Carson). Such a powerful book; it kickstarted the green movement
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Yeah, I know … I think perhaps just Grandpa Gulliver’s bees moved on … as had he … in a different way …
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They do say bees do that, so I’ve heard 🙂
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🙂
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Oh dang! You get me all warm and comfy and then you pull my heartstrings… It cannot be the end of our bees forever. I like to hope they went on somewhere else to live after Grandpa Gulliver was no longer around to take care of them.
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Yeah, me think they only left THOSE hives because Grandpa Gulliver is no longer there to pamper them … (me hope).
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Me hope so too
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We be both hope so! 😀
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Yes ma’am!!
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🙂
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🙂
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