We're Bob and Lily, the couple behind The Bee's Knees Honey, and we're so excited you've found us. Over a cup of coffee (and a spoonful of honey), we'd love to share our passion for all things that are the bees' knees, honey, beeswax, conservation, gardening, recipes, and the wonderful little creatures that make so much of life possible. Before we dive into bee facts and honey varieties, we thought we'd tell you a little about ourselves, because like many good stories, ours starts with family, a vegetable garden... and one terrified little girl.
Both our parents migrated from Eastern Europe, and they all grew up in small farming villages. Both Bob’s parents are of Croatian descent, and Bob’s first 10 years were spent growing up in the small farming village of Livno, Bosnia and Herzegovina. He has fond memories of living off the land, of natural remedies, and of a beautiful way of life. Like the saying, you can take the boy out of the farm, but you can’t take the farm out of the boy! See above image of Farmer Bob. My mother is of Serbian descent and grew up in a small farming village in Zvornik, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and my father is from Ohrid, North Macedonia. If you haven’t been to Lake Ohrid, I highly recommend travelling there. Both sets of parents set off across the seas to call Sydney home in the early 1970’s. I was born and raised in Sydney.
It is amazing to look back at the 1980’s: grass growing metres on the road, kids playing handball on the street with chalk boundary lines engraved in the bitumen, and when the streetlights came on, it was an indication to get home! Our families took on the Aussie BBQs on a Sunday at your local park. Life was slow, family-oriented and less complicated. If you ran out of a key ingredient in cooking, such as milk or eggs, you would go over to the neighbours and ask for a glass of milk, and you would never need to replace it because, sooner or later, your neighbour would come over asking for the same. It was a community that supported each other in any way. As many ethnic families have heard, our parents arrived with just one suitcase. Our families also brought with them their virtual suitcase of how to be kind, self-sufficient and generous, and to grow their own vegetable patches in the small suburban backyards. Rows of cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, spinach, garlic, chillies, to name a few, and the small backyard was a replica of a miniature farm. Everyone would convene in the veggie patch to discuss what helped their gardens thrive, share their produce with all, and, of course, have some friendly competition over whose garden had the best seedlings, and those were shared too.
I recall one warm morning, the sun was beaming through the trees, walking in my backyard, and I realised I was absolutely terrified of bees. Not “slightly nervous”, terrified. I’m talking Olympic level bee avoidance. My dad had planted holy basil along one side of our backyard and a carpet of clover and dandelions on the other. Between them was a narrow walkway about 60 centimetres wide. Every morning, I'd sprint down that path like my life depended on it. The bees were happily foraging on the pretty clover flowers and bright yellow dandelions, collecting pollen. Meanwhile, I was playing a high-stakes game of backyard hopscotch, convinced every bee was plotting against me personally. To make matters worse, my older brother was allergic to bee stings. He'd been stung several times, and his foot would swell up like a football, ouch. That did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves. Thankfully, with all my bee exposure, I have only been stung once on the hand.
Dad would always tell me how great bees were, how healthy honey was, and, with a heavy Eastern European accent, would utter, “No bees, no food!” I could not understand how a tiny insect with a sting was responsible for our food source. All I knew was that I wanted to keep well away from them. But, and it’s a big but, one afternoon I came home from school and discovered that Dad had placed a beehive (a Langstroth Hive, the most common hive used throughout Australia, with 8 to 10 frame boxes) right in the middle of his vegetable garden. A real beehive. As far as I was concerned, we already had plenty of bees. Apparently, Dad disagreed. I remember standing there thinking: “Why would anyone voluntarily invite MORE bees into the backyard?"
A few months later, I arrived home to what looked like a scene from a scary film. Thousands of bees filled the air above our backyard. The sky was buzzing. My heart nearly stopped. Half the colony was swarming, following their old queen and leaving a ripe queen cell or virgin queen to replace her, as they created a new colony. While I was mentally packing my bags and considering moving out, Dad calmly grabbed a ladder, climbed up and collected the swarm. One hive became two. Two became ten. Ten became, well, too much to count, but it was a lot of hives. After twelve years of beekeeping in a suburban backyard, Dad finally agreed to move the hives to our friend Jack's farm in Bega. Thank you, Jack. Turns out he loved me slightly more than the bees. Only slightly.
Bob has always been much more relaxed about bees. His official contribution to this story is simply: "I love them and grew up with them in Europe”. Bob’s paternal grandmother was a beekeeper. No protective clothing, bare hands and just nerves of steel. Bob's theory, if you're calm, the bees are calm. Some people really do get life on easy mode.
Fast forward forty years. The little girl who once sprinted through the backyard to avoid bees now spends her spare time reading about them, talking about them and completely fascinating anyone who'll listen. Somewhere along the way, Dad's love of bees found its way into my DNA. It just took a few decades to activate.
Living on 5 acres in semi-rural Thirlmere, NSW, where have the bees gone? We have an abundance of flowering plants (Bob has the green thumb in our family), but no bees were in sight. The introduction of pesticides, the expansion of urban development, land clearing, bushfires and the spread of single-crop farms all contribute to the decline of bees. We are always trying to plant trees and flowers that bees love.
Our love for honey has always been, and we love trying different varieties of honey from different beekeepers. Every honey from a different hive will taste different, depending on what the bees foraged on. We joined Amateur Beekeepers Australia and completed a beekeeper’s course. We highly recommend it. Upon opening up our first hive (all suited up, of course), I truly had no fear. A cathartic experience. The bees were focused and loved what they do, working all together harmoniously. It was truly a remarkable sight! The bees were literally heads down and bottoms up, working on their craft. Our tiny heroes.
A trip to Tasmania planted the seed that eventually became The Bee's Knees Honey. We wanted to create more than a honey shop. We wanted to build a place where people could discover incredible Australian honey, learn about our amazing pollinators, support and give thanks to all our local beekeepers and celebrate the small Australian businesses giving it a go; some are so creative and bring us wonderful, conscious products that make Australia special, and we are proud to share them with you. We're endlessly curious and love sharing what we learn. If we don't know the answer to something, we'll happily disappear down a research rabbit hole until we find it.
Giving back is also important to us. That's why we pledge to donate 5% of all online honey sales to the wonderful Wheen Bee Foundation, supporting bee research, education, and conservation across Australia.
So, whether you've landed here because you love honey, love gardening, love bees, or you're simply curious, we're delighted you're here. Welcome to The Bee's Knees Honey. We're looking forward to sharing this journey with you.
Until next time, keep life sweet,
Bob & Lily
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