This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
For Jude, Anna, Silas, Elliott, Haven, and Tessa.—M.M.
Cameron Kids would like to thank Tenaya Lena for her original sketches for this book and Jasmin Dwyer for completing the art.
Text copyright © 2024 Meredith May
Illustrations copyright © 2024 Jasmin Dwyer
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Book design by Melissa Nelson Greenberg These images were created using pencil, watercolor, and pastel.
Published in 2024 by Cameron Kids, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023947290
ISBN: 978-1-951836-82-5
in China
Cameron Kids books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specifications. For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.
A Girl, Her Grandfather, and Their Honeybee Family
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by Meredith May
by Jasmin Dwyer and Tenaya Lena
art
y grandpa keeps honeybees where the mountains hug the sea. The bees all live together in tiny houses.
When it’s sunny the bees come out to look for flowers. They fly all around me, but they are not very interested in people.
The most important thing to a bee is its family.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
We all live together in a tiny house, too—my grandpa and granny, my mom, and me.
But mostly it’s just Grandpa and me—Granny teaches at the elementary school, and Mom is often in bed with a headache.
Sometimes when I get lonely, I play hide-and-seek . . . by myself. This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
I hide underneath the ruffled pink square-dancing skirts in Granny’s closet and picture my grandparents twirling together.
I crawl into the root cellar and dig in the dirt for arrowheads, imagining Grandpa’s ancestors spearfishing in the Big Sur River long ago.
Sometimes, I sit in the foxtail grass and try to remember the sound of Dad’s voice.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
But my favorite hiding spot is the blossoming eucalyptus tree, where I climb to watch Grandpa’s honeybees roll around in the flowers that look like little yellow hula skirts and smell like butter. The bees like this tree because they drink up the nectar and turn it into honey.
Whenever I disappear into my tree, it’s Grandpa who finds me.
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“Yoo-hoo up there!” he shouts, one day, from down below, “Want to give me a hand in the Honey Bus?”
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The Honey Bus is where Grandpa harvests honey. He hides the key on the roof where I can’t reach it, because there are machines inside that he says are too dangerous for kids. But today, he’s decided I’m big enough to be his helper.
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He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I scurry down the tree.
I’ve been waiting forever to enter Grandpa’s secret factory. But first, we must get the honey out of the hives.
I’m a little bit nervous to touch the bees. But Grandpa is teaching me to be brave like him.
“Bees won’t bother you if you don’t bother them,” he says.
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To prove it, he places a honeybee on my arm.
I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut. But all that happens is the bee tickles me with her tiny feet, and then she uncoils her long red tongue to taste my skin. But I’m not a flower, and so she flies away.
My fear flies away too.
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Then Grandpa hands me a hat with a net so the bees won’t get tangled in my hair. We burn leaves and sticks in a special can. I puff the smoke to calm the bees down, while Grandpa carefully removes wooden frames heavy with honeycomb from the top.
“You must always handle the bees gently,” Grandpa says.
He says bees are sensitive and have feelings, just like people. Bees can tell when you are in a hurry or if you are angry or afraid.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
I think of things that make me smile, like chocolate chip ice cream and roller coasters, so the bees will smile too.
Grandpa doesn’t wear gloves when he works because his hands tell him if the bees are happy or upset.
Today their humming sounds like a song, not a roar.
I peer inside the hive and see a moving carpet of legs and wings. The bees dance in circles to tell each other things. They give one another gifts of honey.
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When I tell Grandpa I think the bees are in a good mood, he agrees and says it’s because their family is strong. They stick together.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
Grandpa and I stick together too. The Honey Bus is our hive. Here, my heart hums calmly.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
I hang upside down from the handrails and wait for Grandpa to put the honeycomb into the big spinner. Then it’s time for my job.
“Flip the switch!” he commands.
I turn the spinner on, and as it picks up speed, strings of honey fly out of the honeycomb like sparkling thread.
Grandpa opens a spout at the bottom of a barrel and fills the first jar of honey.
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“This one’s ours,” he says, handing it to me. “We’ll put it on our pancakes tomorrow.”
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The honey is still warm inside the glass. It’s beautiful and special, because Grandpa and I worked together to bottle it.
I dip my finger into it.
“How’s it taste?” Grandpa asks.
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This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
I taste eucalyptus blossoms and coyote brush. I taste the boysenberries that sprout from the hood of the Honey Bus. I taste a bit of sage, and I taste something just a little bitter beneath the sweetness too. But that just makes it better.
“Tastes like love.”
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.
This is an advance, uncorrected proof. Not for resale, duplication, or reposting. Please do not quote without comparison to the finished book.