Hive

It began on an ordinary morning in Victoria. As I passed the Empress Hotel, a drowsy bumblebee tumbled to the ground—soft, stunned, and struggling to find her wings. I lifted her from the driveway and carried her to safety. That tiny rescue, that moment of shared fragility, sparked the carving of my first bee, Miel, and a fundraiser for the Mustard Seed, a food drive for those in need. She quickly became one of my most beloved creations.

Years later, in the hush and upheaval of COVID, the bees returned with new purpose. A woman and friend I deeply admire, Dr. Bonnie Henry, appeared on her daily news briefings wearing Miel. The world was frightened, the province holding its breath, yet seeing that little golden bee on her collar awakened something steady and bright within me.

From that spark came Little Honey and The Bonnie Bee—both named in her honour, both symbols of guidance, grace, and the quiet strength with which she carried us through the storm. These bees became talismans of connection, hope, and care when we could not touch. A portion of their proceeds supported the WISH Drop-In Centre, helping women in need.

Five years on, the bees still whisper their stories.

From pages of late-night sketches emerged The Gatherer Ring—a smaller version of Little Honey perched on a golden branch—and The Hive Ring, set with two hexagonal lab-grown diamonds echoing the inner honeycomb where bees return with their gathered gold. They may be worn together like a tale, or each on its own—a small, shimmering reminder of resilience.

A new pendant is forming now, awaiting the perfect petite hexagonal diamonds. And soon, a tiny charm named Pollen will join the hive—only four enchanted little wonders ready for the holidays.