We鈥檙e doing something a little different for this week鈥檚 Poetic Licence. When we learned that 麻豆传媒映画Poet Laureate Rachel Rose had edited a new book called , dedicated to stories of food, homelands and reconciliation, we asked her to choose one of her favourite excerpts from the fundraising endeavour to share with Westender readers.
The following is a 鈥渉ybrid form of call and response between a scientist and a poet,鈥� says Rose. 鈥淭he first part is an essay by and the second is a poem by , which riffs on the sonnet.鈥�
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Apples and Honey
September and October are important months for honeybees and beekeepers, their final opportunity to bring in the last dribs and drabs of fall honey, and ours to prepare hives for the long winter ahead. But fall beekeeping and winter colony survival are dependent on spring bloom, because it鈥檚 those nectar-producing flowers of spring from which we harvest honey in the fall, and it鈥檚 the honey we leave for the honeybees each fall on which they survive until the next spring.
The Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, also happens in September or early October, a festival of renewal and reflection where bees and honey play a prominent role. We dip slices of apple into honey and recite: "May it be your will, Lord our God and God of our ancestors, to renew this year for us with sweetness and happiness."
The simple rhythm of blessing, dipping and merging apple and honey holistically unites my own disparate identities of beekeeper, scientist, teacher, writer and Jew. It is at these moments that I feel most whole, and at these times of celebration that I most deeply understand the role of bees in nature and in my own life.
Apples would not exist were it not for the pollinating influence of the bees, which transfer pollen between flowers every spring, setting the seed for the apple fruit. The apples, for their part, produce sweet nectar in their flowers, which attracts the bees to dip their tongues deep into the flower, knocking pollen off the flower and onto their hairy bodies in the process of imbibing.
The pollen rubs off on subsequent floral visits, fertilizing the flowers, and the life and growth of the new apple fruit begins. The nectar from the apple flowers is carried back to the bees' nest, turned into honey and stored for the winter, providing honeybee colonies with food to survive until the next spring, when the cycle is renewed as the bees pollinate again.
We celebrate this annual cycle by joining the apple and honey together to renew the sweetness of the seasons. But this closely intertwined relationship has deeper meaning, because the quality of the apple depends on the number of bee visits. The more bees that visit each flower, the larger and rounder the fruit. The quality of the fruit is further enhanced when the donor and recipient trees are different varieties, yet another celebration of diversity鈥檚 inherent value.
Quality also has to do with the diversity of bee species that visit the blossoms, with many dozens of wild species attending to apple pollination in addition to the managed honeybees. Each bee species works the flower differently, transferring pollen in various ways, thereby contributing their own unique style to the critical task of pollination.
So it is with human societies. It is through the cross-fertilization of ideas and talents that we express our best communal selves. We derive strength and wisdom from our mutual visions, just as the apples are improved by the visits of diverse bees to set fruit.
The feel and smell of the bee yard are right there with me during our holiday celebrations, connected with the cycles of the seasons and the profound beliefs and history from which my own rituals descended and my descendants will learn from and enjoy.
Yes, there is much that can be revealed when the taste of crunchy apple is mixed with the sweetness of honey. But isn't it always like that, with wonder all around us when we open our eyes to the profound insights imbedded in the simplest of pleasures? 鈥�
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Spring鈥檚 bloom, fat summer, fall鈥檚 harvest
Apples to honey, when October ends, begins
That portal, opening, dip, recite, if not for
That transfer, set the seed, swell the gourd,
Nectar sucked, a hairy-backed bee
What if our fingers, stroke, or rub, carry-over
To visit, that flight, the dance and stored for winter
A number of, the more鈥�
Rounder, varietal, species named, unnamed,
Destroyed, remembered, into the bee yard
You brought me鈥攁nd so we whispered
Let the song reside in us forever鈥�
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From Rachel Rose:
As an anthology, Sustenance is unique: unpublished writers, some of whom are in elementary school, stand shoulder to shoulder with some of the best writers in Canada and abroad. Famous chefs share recipes in these pages, and Project Chef kids cook together at our local schools. Buddhist monks and nuns teach us how to eat with mindfulness here, and without bloodshed. Refugees share their longing for lost homelands and grief at not belonging, as well as resilience and recipes from home. Immigrants grateful for the prosperity Canada has brought them write hymns about farming in the Fraser Valley, hymns tinged with the fraught task of becoming Canadian, in their own eyes and in the eyes of those who came before them. Words of pain and hope from within our fractured literary community sing on these pages, as we collectively struggle to find a way through our own complicated inheritances.
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The table is symbolic, but symbols matter. Writers will be donating their honoraria to the . Every book sold will provide a local refugee or low-income family with fresh, locally grown produce through these vouchers, and at the same time will support B.C. farmers. Nothing is simple; even the act of feeding people is fraught and complicated 鈥� but this project is, simply, a love letter to the city in which I was born. All the writers here, many of whom also struggle to make ends meet, have generously donated their work to create community and to sustain others.
You can purchase Sustenance at or order through your local bookstore.
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鈥� To submit your own poetry to Poetic Licence, email [email protected] with 鈥淧oetry Column鈥� in the subject line. Include your poem, full name, contact details and bio. Only those selected for the column will be contacted.
