BEE BEES HIVE

by

Jacqui Stevens

Granny Potts stood outside her flower shop shielding her eyes from the sunlight spreading its golden rays over ‘Cherry Blossom Lane’.

Two little girls passed her shop and waved. ‘You wee lassies on your way to school now?’

‘Aye, we are.’ They skipped off and ran over the bridge, above a stream trickling through the village of ‘Whispering Brook’.

Rapid clip-clop sounds could be heard in the distance.

‘Ah Angus and Mr Chips,’ Granny Pott’s whispered to herself.

A booming voice sprang out into song. ‘I’m Angus McFizz from Aberdeen, a good looking chap if you’ve ever seen, I’m Angus McFizz, from Ab Aberdeen, I’m Angus McFizz…’

Hooves clambered around the bend. Granny Potts took in a huge breath. ‘Help ma boab. Slow down you great oaf, you’ll be smashing into my wee shop.’

Angus tossed his mop of red hear back and let out a thunderous roar of laughter most of the village probably heard. Mr Chips ground to a sudden halt outside the shop and Angus leapt off the cart. His huge frame nearly cracked a paving stone as he landed. Granny Potts looked at the wobbling stone. ‘You were lucky that time,’ she giggled.

A loud shriek shot out as Mr Chips nipped Angus’s bum. Mr Chips curled his top lip,revealing large, yellow teeth.

‘Oh, you think that’s funny eh?’ Angus slapped his sides and doubled over. Granny Potts held her mouth to try and stop the spluttering. When both of them recovered themselves, Angus undid the harness and they stepped inside the shop all red faced and out of breath. Angus placed a box of flowers on the counter, while Mr Chips helped himself to an orange Gerbera flower inside a bucket beside the door.

‘Rascal,’ Granny Potts chuckled.

‘I cannae tell you how that nag thinks it’s all about him.’ Angus patted Mr Chips’ thick, chestnut coloured neck, ‘but I’d nae be without him.’ Angus took out the flower his horse had clenched between his teeth and flicked his bushy black forelock.

Angus looked around the small wooden shop. ‘When are you gaunn’ae name the shop?’

‘I’m trying to think of a fitting name for it, but I’m sure it’ll come to me one of these days.

‘Angus gave her a curious smile and walked Mr Chips back to the cart. He put on the harness and climbed into the carriage. Granny Potts waved as they headed back up the lane. ‘What a grand pair.’

A week later, Granny Potts was standing outside her shop when a familiar noise of galloping hooves could be heard in the distance. Angus and Mr Chips came belting around the corner.

Granny Potts put up her hand, ‘Angus, slow him.’

‘I cannae, the old nag nicked a ton of oats this morning,’ he bellowed. Mr Chips charged over the bridge, the cart’s wheels almost toppling over. Angus dug his heels into the foothold and tugged at the harness. All too soon they disappeared into the woodland, followed by a cloud of dust.

‘Oh dear, I hope they’ll be alright,’ She went back into the shop and walked around. She stopped at a pot, packed with droopy, red roses and flopped down on her rocking chair.. ‘My poor flowers.’

The doorbell jingled and Granny Potts nearly fell off her chair. In came a man wearing a green, floppy hat, holding a brown box under one arm.

Granny Potts stood up and straightened her pink apron with white frilled edges. ‘Hello, would you like to buy my flowers?’ She said in an embarrassed tone.

The man looked around at the wilting flowers. ‘Well I’m very sorry to say, but I see they look a wee bit tired today.’

‘I know, the weather is so warm, my flowers shrivel up before I can sell them.’

‘If you will help me and display some of my wooden toys in your window,’ said the man, ‘then I will buy some of your flowers tomorrow in return for your kindness.’ He took out some curious toys from his box and spread them out on the counter before her.

‘Do you make these yourself?’ Her eyes gleamed like polished topaz stones at all the different toys.

‘I carve wooden toys for the bairns of our village and give them to the good ones, who deserve them.

‘She smiled at him and looked back and noticed some wooden bees, each no bigger than the size of her hand. ‘Oh, those cute bees would look great in my shop window. I could put them on top of the honey jars.

‘The man left the wooden bees and looked around at all the flowers. ‘At times living things need a wee bit of coaxing in magical ways. These are special toys. You will see.’ He turned and walked to the door. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow.’ He tipped his hat. and walked out into the glen, where birds started calling in a musical chorus at the sight of him.

Granny Potts chuckled and tutted. ‘Special toys?’ she mumbled and placed the three wooden bees on top of the honey jars. She stood back a little. ‘What colourful bees, I’m very happy to have you in my shop window.’ She stroked one of them on the top of its head.

As soon as Granny Potts closed the shop that evening and as the sun was setting behind the heather clad hills, something strange happened. First, the large, queen bee flapped her wings and the two smaller bees opened their huge, brown eyes. The bees were no longer wooden toys, they had come to life.

‘Come children, you two have work to do,’ Aliza, the queen bee urged. Blaze and Topaz stretched their skinny, knobbly legs and flew to the wilting flowers.

Blaze began sucking up the nectar from some Sunflowers in a pot. ‘Yum yum,’ he buzzed and rubbed his ever bulging tummy. ‘Come get some nectar mummy,’ he shouted and looked over at Aliza.

‘Oh no, queen bees do not gather nectar, that is your job.’

‘Blaze, you have pollen stuck all over your body,’ Topaz chuckled. She took a long smell of the Lillies’ spicy fragrance in one of the pots.

As Topaz and Blaze flew from one flower to the next, during the night, the pollen on their bodies sprinkled like fairy dust over all the shrivelling flowers…and they all sprang back to life…blooming in a sea of colours.

Aliza took Blaze and Topaz under her wings and promoted them to Princess Topaz and Prince Blaze for what they had achieved that night.

The next morning…

‘Well bless my soul!’ Granny Potts cried out, adjusting her round glasses, as she entered her shop the next morning. Her eyes twinkled at all the beautiful flowers. The little bees were in the same spot she had left them the night before…all wooden and still again. Just then, the door opened and in walked the man with the green, floppy hat. He stood at the door and sniffed the air as sweet, wispy perfumes wafted around.

‘Ah scents from Heaven. Now, I’ll be very happy to buy some flowers.’

Granny Potts rubbed her hands together and licked her lips. She reached out for two long, wide stems of palm leaves and lay them out on the counter. She walked over to the Gypsophila pot and selected four stems. The gyp was placed carefully on top of the large palm leaves., then she selected six bright red roses and placed them on top of the gyp. She stepped back to admire her progress and grinned. ‘Now, I think we shall add some Freesias.’ She walked over to the different coloured blooms and picked up a bundle, then placed them on top of the roses. Eucalyptus was placed around the edge of the bouquet. Granny Potts sighed and looked at the man.

He tipped his hat.’That’s brightened my day.’

Granny Potts giggled and wrapped her creation in a selection of brightly coloured tissue papers, finished off with a huge golden bow.

The man took the flowers and paid Granny Potts. He went to the shop door and turned to look back at her. ‘You can keep the bees, they’ve served you well.’ He looked at Blaze, gave him a little wink and opened the door. Looking up at the sky, he then strolled down the lane like a proud sergeant major.

Later that afternoon...

Granny Pott’s went to the the open window and looked out. Honeycomb coloured rays were slipping through the trees in the woodland, Angus and Mr Chips appeared in the clearing. over the bridge.

‘Oh, thank goodness. You two are safe.’ She rushed out of the shop and walked to the edge of the pavement. Angus and Mr Chips ambled along the road like they’d been on a rough ride. Angus had leaves and branches attached to his hair and beard. Lots of foliage stuck to Mr Chips’ mane and tail.

‘They’re always on some kind of adventure.’

‘Fair well lassie.’ Angus cried out to her. ‘There’s good times ahead. So you finally decided what to call your wee shop then?’

‘Aye Angus, what do you think of ‘Bee Bees Flower Shed?’

‘Loving it!’ He hollered back and disappeared around the bend.

When she sauntered back into the shop with a wide grin on her face, she noticed the man with the green floppy hat sitting on her chair, rocking as cool as you like, as though he owned the place.

‘Er hello, I never saw you come in.’ She turned to look at the door and back at the man ‘How very strange.’ She started rubbing her eyes. ‘How did….’

‘I hope you don’t mind dear lady, just resting my tired feet,’ he interrupted and stood up. He handed her a wooden box with a slot on the top.

‘Place it on the windowcill for all your customers to write a worry note and pop it into the box. Then prepare yourself for what happens next.

The special box

Granny Potts placed the box, adorned with intricate designs of flowers and bees, on the windowcill besides Topaz and Blaze. She stood back to admire the perfectly carved box.

‘This is a very special box,’ the man with the green floppy hat explained. ‘People can write their worries, their dreams, and wishes on this little pad and then slip them through the slot. He handed her a little notepad with flowers and bees at the top. ‘The universe or creator, whatever is your vision, will hear them, and with a little faith, those worries will disappear.’The special notepad

Granny took off her round glasses and rubbed her eyes. ‘How does it work though?’

‘Like I said, a little faith goes a long, long way,’ he replied.. ‘It’s not only for your customers but also for you. Each note is a seed sown. Inside this box, every wish is nurtured with hope and carries the potential for change.’

He strolled around the shop a little and then said, ‘I’ll say good evening to you,’ He tilted his hat and turned to look at Blaze and Topaz who were begining to awaken. He stroked their heads and left the shop, stepping into the glen, where the birds were just settling down for the nightime ahead.

That night, Granny Potts couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking of the notes people might place inside the box and then fluttering to life like her wooden bees do every night. Perhaps Mrs Mc’Caan might find the courage to venture into a new chapter of her life after losing her husband, or little Harry could summon up the strength to overcome his fears of the dark and stop thinking of imaginary monsters under his bed.

The next morning, she entered her shop and began crafting a sign for her customers, inviting them to share their dreams and worries.Share your dreams

As the days turned into weeks, notes began to fill the box, everything from simple wishes for nice sunny days to heartfelt dreams of healing a loved one. Every night, before going to sleep, Granny Potts prayed, trusting the hopes of her customers would be fullfilled.

The shop flourished from then on, not just with flowers and bees, but now with stories, and bonds that spread throughout the community. Each day that passed, Granny Potts knew she had been given a chance to help people feel hope again, just as the mysterious man with the green floppy hat had once shaped her own life with his gift of the wooden bees, Topaz, Blaze and Queen bee Aliza.

The special box contained all these dreams, Granny smiled, ready to witness their prayers unfold.

THE END

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEES

CONTACT

Most of the Illustrations, by Andrew Searle. Click on ‘contact’ if you would be interested in Andrew designing your artwork.

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