How I Adopted Two Families of Bees — and How You Can Too

If someone had told me a few years ago that I'd one day be a proud "parent" of two bee families, I might have laughed. I loved bees from a distance — admiring their golden fuzz, their dedication, their mysterious dances in the air — but I had never imagined inviting them to stay. Today, not only are two thriving colonies buzzing happily in my garden, but I've discovered an incredibly simple and natural way for anyone to welcome bees into their lives and help heal the planet.

It all started with a handful of honey.

Last spring, as May unfurled its green magic, I set out two empty beehives at the edge of my orchard. They were modest wooden boxes, nothing fancy, just well-built and clean — and inside, every two weeks, I placed a small spoonful of pure honey. I kept it simple, offering just enough to catch the interest of any wandering scout bees. It was an invitation, like leaving a light on in the window of a warm home on a chilly night.

May turned to June, and the flowers were buzzing with activity. I refreshed the honey every two weeks, just as I had planned. I didn't chase bees, or force anything — I simply waited. Nature, I realized, doesn't need us to push. It needs us to offer.

One morning in early June, I noticed a few bees lingering around one of the hives. Then a few more. Within days, a whole lively cloud was spiraling around the box — a swarm had chosen to move in! A week later, a second hive was adopted by another family. Just like that, I had become the caretaker of two vibrant bee colonies, without needing to buy bees or capture swarms.

This experience showed me something powerful: Nature responds to simple kindness.

By offering a clean, welcoming space and a tiny gift of honey, I helped these bees find a new home. And in return, they pollinate my trees, flowers, and garden plants. They hum through my mornings, carrying the life force of the land from blossom to blossom. Thanks to them, I enjoy an abundance of fruits and seeds, and the biodiversity of my garden is richer than ever.

More importantly, by giving bees a home, we give the Earth a chance to heal.

Bees are not just beautiful little creatures; they are essential to life as we know it. Nearly 75% of the crops we eat rely on pollinators like bees. Without them, our plates would look frighteningly empty — no apples, no almonds, no berries, no melons. Without bees, the intricate web of plant and animal life would unravel.

Today, bees are under threat from habitat loss, pesticides, diseases, and climate change. Wild bee populations are declining at alarming rates. Every hive, every healthy colony, is a spark of hope in the darkness. And the amazing thing is, helping doesn't have to be complicated.

You don't need a fancy bee suit, expensive equipment, or deep technical knowledge. If you have a little patch of land — or even a quiet corner of a backyard — you can do what I did. Here's how you can start:

1. Get or build a simple hive.
   A traditional Langstroth hive works great, but even a basic wooden box (protected from rain) can become a bee magnet. Just make sure it’s clean and untreated with harsh chemicals.

2. Choose a good spot.
   Place the hive in a peaceful area with morning sun and some shade in the afternoon. Bees love warm, dry places.

3. Offer a little honey.
   Every two weeks in May and June, put a small spoonful of real, organic honey inside the hive. Not too much — you don't want to drown them or attract pests — just a small, sweet invitation.

4. Be patient.
   Trust nature’s timing. You might see scouts checking out the hive, and if it feels right to them, they’ll bring the whole family!

5. Create a bee-friendly garden.
   Plant a variety of flowers, especially native species. Bees love diversity and need food sources all season long.

By doing this, you become part of something far greater than yourself. You offer sanctuary to one of Earth's most vital species. You help ensure that future generations can enjoy the lushness of fruits, the colors of wildflowers, the richness of thriving ecosystems.

And you will be rewarded beyond what you can imagine — not just with honey (though that may come too), but with the joy of watching life blossom all around you.

Every buzz in the garden, every dance of bees from flower to flower, reminds me that healing the world starts with small acts of care. A spoonful of honey. An open door. A little patience.

So this May and June, why not try? Set out your own invitation. Welcome the bees home. The planet, and your soul, will thank you.