About a decade ago, New York City, my hometown, legalized beekeeping. Other cities have done likewise, and in some other cities, the practice has always been legal. A result is that the number of urban beekeepers has grown exponentially.
In the Big Apple (Now there's something a bee would like!), the first apiarians were amateur hobbyists. These days, however, there are beekeeping businesses in formerly-abandoned industrial buildings as well as other "recycled" spaces. As you might expect, beekeepers in New York and other cities are selling honey--some with interesting and unique flavors--in farmers' markets and even to stores. They also, ironically, sell bees and hives to farmers and fruit growers.
Another trend in large and mid-sized cities coincided with the re-discovery of beekeeping. Since you're reading this blog (Aren't you smart!), you have probably guessed what it is: bicycling, for transportation as well as recreation. Just as hives were being built in old warehouses, bike lanes and other infrastructure were blazing their way through urban neighborhoods.
It makes sense, then, that these two trends would meet at some point.
More precisely, they have met in someone: Jana Kinsman, founder of Bike a Bee in Chicago.
Seven years ago, she was working in graphic design but wanted a change. To help satisfy a lifelong curiosity about bees, and insects in general, she took a winter beekeeping class with the Chicago Honey Co-op. After that finishing that class, she went to Eugene, Oregon to apprentice with a beekeeper. She brought the skills she learned there back to the Windy City, and began a Kickstarer campaign that raised $8000. With that, and her 1974 Peugeot PX-10 (You can do damn near anything with that bike!), she "started Bike a Bee out of my apartment," she says.
In the beginning, her operation was in her apartment. "All of the equipment was stored in my bedroom and we extracted honey in my living room," she recalls. (I must say that I've lived with housemates who did less to contribute their fair share of the rent, and who were far more dangerous!) Today, Bike a Bee maintains more than 50 hives in community gardens, schools and urban farms on the city's South Side. She pedals between those sites to conduct inspections and collect honey. From those places, she transports honey all over the city, where it is sold in farmers' markets and stores.
She says she has yet to find the need for a motor vehicle. What's more, working by bicycle has other benefits. Not only does it keep her physically active, it helps her to be more mindful and enjoy the community around her. "When you're on your bike, you're slower," she explains. You're able to take things in more. Stop whenever you want, wherever you want. You can see nature more, the blooms in the trees. You connect much more with the world around you by bike."
Could it be that from the saddle of her Peugeot PX-10, Jana Kinsman is seeing her city through the eyes of a bee?
In the Big Apple (Now there's something a bee would like!), the first apiarians were amateur hobbyists. These days, however, there are beekeeping businesses in formerly-abandoned industrial buildings as well as other "recycled" spaces. As you might expect, beekeepers in New York and other cities are selling honey--some with interesting and unique flavors--in farmers' markets and even to stores. They also, ironically, sell bees and hives to farmers and fruit growers.
Another trend in large and mid-sized cities coincided with the re-discovery of beekeeping. Since you're reading this blog (Aren't you smart!), you have probably guessed what it is: bicycling, for transportation as well as recreation. Just as hives were being built in old warehouses, bike lanes and other infrastructure were blazing their way through urban neighborhoods.
It makes sense, then, that these two trends would meet at some point.
More precisely, they have met in someone: Jana Kinsman, founder of Bike a Bee in Chicago.
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| Jana Kinsman. Photo by Adam Alexander. |
Seven years ago, she was working in graphic design but wanted a change. To help satisfy a lifelong curiosity about bees, and insects in general, she took a winter beekeeping class with the Chicago Honey Co-op. After that finishing that class, she went to Eugene, Oregon to apprentice with a beekeeper. She brought the skills she learned there back to the Windy City, and began a Kickstarer campaign that raised $8000. With that, and her 1974 Peugeot PX-10 (You can do damn near anything with that bike!), she "started Bike a Bee out of my apartment," she says.
 |
| Jana with bike and bees. Photo by Brent Knepper. |
In the beginning, her operation was in her apartment. "All of the equipment was stored in my bedroom and we extracted honey in my living room," she recalls. (I must say that I've lived with housemates who did less to contribute their fair share of the rent, and who were far more dangerous!) Today, Bike a Bee maintains more than 50 hives in community gardens, schools and urban farms on the city's South Side. She pedals between those sites to conduct inspections and collect honey. From those places, she transports honey all over the city, where it is sold in farmers' markets and stores.
She says she has yet to find the need for a motor vehicle. What's more, working by bicycle has other benefits. Not only does it keep her physically active, it helps her to be more mindful and enjoy the community around her. "When you're on your bike, you're slower," she explains. You're able to take things in more. Stop whenever you want, wherever you want. You can see nature more, the blooms in the trees. You connect much more with the world around you by bike."
Could it be that from the saddle of her Peugeot PX-10, Jana Kinsman is seeing her city through the eyes of a bee?
 |
| Jana with bees. Photo by Adam Alexander. |
