Archive for May 25th, 2013

by lizard

Today thousands hundreds of thousands of people will be marching against Monsanto. The fight against Monsanto is happening on several fronts. At the Federal level, a senate vote to allow states to require GMO labeling was defeated, but at the state level, Connecticut’s senate passed legislation requiring GMO labeling.

On another front, a bee keeper in Illinois is fighting allegations that his bees were infected by foul brood, but there’s more going on than just those allegations:

An Illinois beekeeper whose bee hives were stolen and allegedly destroyed by the Illinois Department of Agriculture has stirred up a hornet’s nest with his questions on why the state did this, and most importantly, what they did with his bees.

The state claims the bees were destroyed because they were infected with a disease called foulbrood.

But when the 58-year apiary keeper had his hearing—three weeks after the removal of his bees without his knowledge—the state’s “evidence” had disappeared, leaving more questions than answers about the raid on the beekeeper’s hives.

Some people, including the beekeeper, Terrence Ingram, suspect the raid has more to do with Ingram’s 15 years of research on Monsanto’s Roundup and his documented evidence that Roundup kills bees, than it does about any concerns about his hives.

Interestingly, the state’s theft targeted the queen bee and hive he’d been using to conduct the research.

Which brings us to this week’s poetry post featuring Sylvia Plath, a poet who knew a thing or two about bees:

In the autumn of 1962, only four months before her death in February 1963, Sylvia Plath wrote a cluster of extraordinary poems about Bees. She had taken up beekeeping that June and wrote excitedly to her mother in America to describe the events of attending a local beekeepers’ meeting in the Devon village of North Tawton, where she had moved with her husband, Ted Hughes, and their young daughter in September 1961. Her son was born there in January 1962. It seemed to be an idyllic setting for a perfect family life – with bees.

To read Plath’s poem, The Swarm, click continue. Continue Reading »




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