The Valley Hive: Saturday Morning Coffee with the Bees!
/
Welcome to the Los Angeles County Beekeepers Association, founded in 1873, to foster the interest of bee culture and beekeeping within Los Angeles County. Our primary purpose is the care and welfare of the honeybee. Our group membership is composed of commercial and small scale beekeepers, bee hobbyists, and bee enthusiasts. So whether you came upon our site by design or just 'happened' to find us - we're glad you're here! Our club and this website are dedicated to educating our members and the general public. We support honeybee research, and adhering to best management practices for the keeping of bees.
The Latest Buzz:
4th Annual California Honey Harvest Festival & BBQ Championship
/4TH ANNUAL CALIFORNIA HONEY HARVEST FESTIVAL & BBQ CHAMPIONSHIP
Saturday, June 13, 2015 9:00AM-5:00PM
Central Park in Downtown Fillmore, California
For more information, Vendor Application Form, BBQ Team Application, Directions, etc. visit:
http://www.bennetthoney.com/BHF-Events.html
For more info & to Purchase Tickets on the Filmore & Western Train Ride to Bennett's Honey Farm http://www.fwry-blog.com/
LACBA Members:
Join Bennett’s Honey Farm in promoting honey and beekeeping next Saturday, June 13th in Fillmore.
We need volunteers for the LACBA booth (newbies encouraged!) and on the trains (experienced beekeepers preferred - in bee suits) to help teach people about bees and beekeeping. Setup starts at 8am, trains run at 10am, 12:30pm, and 3pm.
If you can help out, give Bill Rathfelder a call at 818-312-5260.
All Aboard!!!
Bill's Bees: 10,000 Bees Beard With Rhett & Link on Good Mythical Morning
/"A guy named Bill put 10,000 Bees on my face."
Rhett & Link, hosts of Good Mystical Morning, the daily morning comedy talk show, head off to Bill's Bees Bee Yard to see if they'd be good candidates as beekeepers.
"Two crazy guys came to visit one day and wanted me to put bees on their face,” says Bill Lewis of Bill’s Bees. “Okay!!!” Bill's Bees does most anything to help the bees!
Also on board was Rob McFarland of HoneyLove http://www.HoneyLove.org.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MU1eoXYN2Rc&feature=youtu.be
LACBA Meeting: March, 2015
/
Join us for our monthly LACBA Meeting. Monday, March 2, 2015.
Doors open: 6:30pm/Starts: 7:00pm.
Location: Mount Olive Lutheran Church
3561 Foothill Boulevard, La Crescenta, CA 91214
We've added over 100 new people to our membership roster this month
(Hi, new members!!!) so be sure to introduce yourselves!
Come, learn about bees! All are welcome!
Walt McBride - A Tribute
/On Monday evening, December 29, 2014, family, friends and lots of beekeepers gathered for the memorial service for Walt McBride. Walt was recognized in the beekeeping community as someone who truly cared about sharing his experience and knowledge of bees and beekeeping with anyone who wanted to know more about the 'gift of the bees.' He was a long time member and past president of the Los Angeles County Beekeepers Association and first recipient of the Golden Hive Tool award (our President's choice of someone who has shown great dedication to the club and thereby improved people's experience of beekeeping). Walt was a treasure and will be greatly missed.
We would like to thank Keith Roberts, LACBA President, and long time friend and fellow beekeeper of Walt's for compiling this beautiful Collage and Video.
Telling the Bees
by John Greenleaf Whittier
by John Greenleaf Whittier
Here is the place; right over the hill
Runs the path I took;
You can see the gap in the old wall still,
And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook.
There is the house, with the gate red-barred,
And the poplars tall;
And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard,
And the white horns tossing above the wall.
There are the beehives ranged in the sun;
And down by the brink
Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun,
Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink.
A year has gone, as the tortoise goes,
Heavy and slow;
And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows,
And the same brook sings of a year ago.
There 's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze;
And the June sun warm
Tangles his wings of fire in the trees,
Setting, as then, over Fernside farm.
I mind me how with a lover's care
From my Sunday coat
I brushed off the burrs, and smoothed my hair,
And cooled at the brookside my brow and throat.
Since we parted, a month had passed, --
To love, a year;
Down through the beeches I looked at last
On the little red gate and the well-sweep near.
I can see it all now, -- the slantwise rain
Of light through the leaves,
The sundown's blaze on her window-pane,
The bloom of her roses under the eaves.
Just the same as a month before, --
The house and the trees,
The barn's brown gable, the vine by the door, --
Nothing changed but the hives of bees.
Before them, under the garden wall,
Forward and back,
Went drearily singing the chore-girl small,
Draping each hive with a shred of black.
Trembling, I listened: the summer sun
Had the chill of snow;
For I knew she was telling the bees of one
Gone on the journey we all must go!
Then I said to myself, "My Mary weeps
For the dead to-day:
Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps
The fret and the pain of his age away."
But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill,
With his cane to his chin,
The old man sat; and the chore-girl still
Sung to the bees stealing out and in.
And the song she was singing ever since
In my ear sounds on: --
"Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence!
Mistress Mary is dead and gone!"
Runs the path I took;
You can see the gap in the old wall still,
And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook.
There is the house, with the gate red-barred,
And the poplars tall;
And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard,
And the white horns tossing above the wall.
There are the beehives ranged in the sun;
And down by the brink
Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun,
Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink.
A year has gone, as the tortoise goes,
Heavy and slow;
And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows,
And the same brook sings of a year ago.
There 's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze;
And the June sun warm
Tangles his wings of fire in the trees,
Setting, as then, over Fernside farm.
I mind me how with a lover's care
From my Sunday coat
I brushed off the burrs, and smoothed my hair,
And cooled at the brookside my brow and throat.
Since we parted, a month had passed, --
To love, a year;
Down through the beeches I looked at last
On the little red gate and the well-sweep near.
I can see it all now, -- the slantwise rain
Of light through the leaves,
The sundown's blaze on her window-pane,
The bloom of her roses under the eaves.
Just the same as a month before, --
The house and the trees,
The barn's brown gable, the vine by the door, --
Nothing changed but the hives of bees.
Before them, under the garden wall,
Forward and back,
Went drearily singing the chore-girl small,
Draping each hive with a shred of black.
Trembling, I listened: the summer sun
Had the chill of snow;
For I knew she was telling the bees of one
Gone on the journey we all must go!
Then I said to myself, "My Mary weeps
For the dead to-day:
Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps
The fret and the pain of his age away."
But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill,
With his cane to his chin,
The old man sat; and the chore-girl still
Sung to the bees stealing out and in.
And the song she was singing ever since
In my ear sounds on: --
"Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence!
Mistress Mary is dead and gone!"
Read about: The Telling of the Bees
