Mini Bee School: A Day of Learning, Discovery, and Reflection - Sept 21, 2025

I went into Mini Bee School with zero expectations. All I knew was that the day would involve bees and microscopes, and that was enough to spark my curiosity. The session was held at the beautiful Horticulture Pacific Gardens, and as I grabbed a seat in the classroom, I quickly realized I was the odd one out. The room was filled with baby boomers—every single one a gardener or professional landscaper. I, on the other hand, was the lone wildlife conservation photographer.

The class was structured perfectly: a mix of lectures and hands-on practice. At times it felt overwhelming, but in the best way possible. The world of bees is vast, complex, and endlessly fascinating.

Here are a few of the facts that absolutely blew my mind:

• Over 600 bee species exist in British Columbia alone.

• Females do all the work—they build the nest, raise the young, and feed them, all before dying. The males? Their role is limited to feeding on nectar and mating.

• 70% of bees are ground nesters, creating homes in soil rather than hives.

• Female bees are typically larger and sturdier than males, and that’s a good thing—the bigger you are, the more likely you’ll be a queen. A complete flip from human society, where “thinness” is so often idealized.

• Some bees have hairs on their wings, some have teeth, others don’t. Males tend to have longer antennae. And nearly all bees are covered in hair!

• They come in a rainbow of colors—not just black and yellow.

Of course, my heart belongs to the bumble bees, especially the ones dressed in orange, yellow, and black. They’re simply adorable.

What struck me most was how much bees mirror humanity. Just like people, they come in all different shapes, sizes, and colors, each with their own unique role and purpose. Some are builders, some are caretakers, some are protectors. They are hard workers, resilient against obstacles, and laser-focused on the survival of their colony. Their lives reminded me that strength comes in many forms and that diversity is not just beautiful—it’s essential.

In their quiet, steady way, bees teach us about persistence, community, and protecting what matters most.

I usually prefer online learning, but this course reminded me how powerful in-person sessions can be, especially when the material is so intricate. The facilitator and assistant were knowledgeable, approachable, and transparent when they didn’t know an answer. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and their patience made the material feel manageable.

During lunch, we were free to wander the gardens. I unpacked my lunch, soaked up the sun and breeze, and took photos of flowers and the very bees we were studying. It was one of those simple, grounding moments where learning and life merge.

As I walked the gardens, my thoughts turned, as they often do, to my mom. Grief is strange—it creeps up in waves, especially as her death anniversary approaches. I almost broke down, missing her hugs and presence so deeply.

She adored bees. She would have loved this course. Maybe part of why I’ve stepped into this journey—working toward the Master Melittologist Apprentice course—is to feel closer to her. Perhaps learning about the creatures she loved helps keep her memory alive.

By the end of the day, I was both exhausted and exhilarated. The materials were excellent, the teaching outstanding, and the hands-on learning unforgettable. I left with a head full of facts, a heart full of emotion, and a renewed awe for the small, mighty bees who keep our ecosystems alive.

So, thank you to the facilitator, the assistant, and of course, to the bees themselves—for teaching us, humbling us, and reminding us how much there still is to discover.