waxy ones

haddon common

20 Apr 2025 — 1 min read

a golden yellow disk is held in a white/pink/yellow hand, both in the glow of spring sunshine. the branches of a still fairly bare tree are waving high in the blue sky behind, and patchy park grass is in the background below. the disk is of freshly rendered beeswax, a crack formed in the centre while it cooled and runs 3/4 diameter through the centre. some patches of brownish-bee-life-bits are visible in the cooled wax, and beads of water are clinging to the surface where other residue was washed away.

a tsp of honey is transformed by the honey bee into 1/8tsp of wax, a bodily alchemy.

it's an incredible conversion: nectar gathered sip by sip, transformed within, to wax excreted flake by flake, sculpted bee by bee to hold whole lives – whole complex lives.

scraping comb from old frames today, in the sun and spring wind of the park, i notice textures, listen to the sounds, am visited by bees and curious park goers.

the brittle wax, used for storing honey, too long out of the warmth of the honey bee hive, flakes off, crumbling as my tool moves lightly through the untended hexagonal framework.

where the bees have used the comb for raising brood, where pupal casings are spun, house metamorphosis and are left behind within each cell, the wax holds, stays connected in elastic concertina formation.

i hold the rendered disk in my hand, heavy, dense. i hold a piece of hexagonal comb, scraped fresh, like air.

i hold myself in the moment. the moment holds me.

i have been cycling with honey bees and beeswax for thirteen years of thirteen moons now. i came across that alignment of 13s as i was thinking today about the connections between beeswax and the language of waxing moons, circles and hexagons, 1s and 3s, the distance to the moon and how many lbs of honey a honey bee would make over that distance of foraging.

waxing is a growing of visibility. 1 adult honey bee covers 3 wax hexagonal cells, sharing their heat to keep 3 pupal bees warm as they grow. the golden ratio begins to spiral, infinite. there are ~360,000km to the moon, and 80,000km are collectively flown by bees to make one lb of honey, so a hypothetical honey bee moon trip creates 4.5lbs of honey, or half a lb of wax, held now in my hand, melted down again to preserve medicine, offer light, grow connection, see and be seen.

dear waxy ones, do join me: calendar

change, like a tide

listening (and re-listening) to change from big thief: i sing it to myself often, in change and when reflecting on change. especially the first verse: change, like the wind / like the water, like skin / change, like the sky / like the leaves, like a butterfly. and i add to it: change,

a soothed bruise

is there a metaphor in bruising, in making a salve - with petals gathered, oils infused and wax rendered - applied tenderly to skin bruised, that might help me learn about rupture and repair, that might soothe towards healing an old heart wound? is there a connection i might weave

a yarrow pillow

i sit and write by my window, and look up often to the twin berry in the garden i tend, yellow bell flowers often visited. a jar of marbles is close-by because my dad told me no one plays with marbles anymore, but my friend and i have small collections

dipp day

invitation to join for beeswax mini candle dipping: Sunday May 25th 2-4pm by drop in to make a mini-candle, hand dipped by you, beeswax and wick provided. 🌞🌱🌻🐝 At the pandora park fieldhouse 2325 franklin Street.

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change, like a tide

a soothed bruise

a yarrow pillow

dipp day