December 21 is almost here — the Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year. The turning point. The day when, even though the cold still settles in, the light officially begins its quiet return.
Ancient cultures marked the solstice with fire — roaring bonfires and storytelling, or a single tapered beeswax candle set to quietly burn through the dark until dawn. For centuries, darkness has been met with light, sweetness, gratitude, and intention. Those early solstice keepers understood something we still feel in our bones— darkness isn’t the end of the story, it’s the place where the story gets more interesting.
Wishing Season Begins
This story begins with a rather mundane task — restocking the Backyard Bees inventory.
But somewhere between checking labels and opening boxes, my senses were suddenly stirred by the faintest suggestion of apricots, red currants, rosemary, and cloves. Then my eyes widened. The words “New York State hops” seemed to jump right off the page.
And just like that, I found myself wondering… why hops? Why hops in tea?
The answer is simple and quietly beautiful. Hops are a slow ingredient. They are known for transformation that takes place over time, not force. In that way, they feel perfectly matched to the deeper meaning of the solstice itself — a seasonal turning that happens patiently, without spectacle… and always ends with spring.
Just as we use hops to add depth and a unique character to our Velvet & Grits Southern Sexy Body Polish, SerendipiTEA uses hops to bring a subtle maltiness and quiet complexity to their Winter Solstice tea. They are, in every way, the perfect ingredient for a blend that honors waiting, darkness, and the promise of return.
The solstice ushers in a quiet season of wishing —
a time when we pause, reflect, hope, and prepare to gently begin again.
Like the other lovely ingredients in this Winter Solstice tea, hops reflect the old traditions of “putting up” — pickling and preserving the bounty of the season. Harvesting and storing honey is part of those same traditions. And the solstice has long been considered day one of the honey season, when the cycle quietly begins again beneath the cold.
(If you’d like to taste the flavors of the season for yourself, you can find Winter Solstice Tea here: Winter Solstice Clairvoyant Tea).
Wintertime for the Bees Is Wishing Season for the Beekeepers
From a human point of view, the solstice is dark.
But to the bees, the solstice is light.
Even as the cold deepens here in New York, the queen begins — carefully, quietly — to lay a few more eggs in preparation for what’s ahead. It’s a hopeful shift, but it’s also a fragile one. For beekeepers, winter becomes its own season of wishing.
We wish that the colony is strong enough.
We wish the honey stores will last.
We wish the cold won’t be too bitter.
We wish the spring will come gently.
This is when we whisper our little bee prayers. We always try to leave the bees their own honey and let them do their ancient work uninterrupted. But sometimes the modern world asks for a little modern magic too — a touch of pollen, fondant, or vitamin patty — gentle support to offset a world that no longer pauses with the seasons the way it once did.
And out in the garden, the wishing continues. Surprise bulbs have already been tucked into the earth. They need this cold. The waiting. The darkness. It’s what tells them how to bloom. (If you’d like to read more about the magic of fall-planted bulbs, you might enjoy Gardening With Grandchildren: The Magic of Fall Planted Bulbs.) Winter may look quiet from the outside, but beneath the soil and inside the hive, everything is still becoming.
Wishing Biscuits, Memory & the Sweet Work of Waiting
In the Backyard Bees kitchen, wishing takes a sweeter form.
I recently learned about “Wishing Biscuits” — sometimes called “Winter Wishing Cookies” — a modern tradition inspired by ancient solstice celebrations. The idea is simple and beautiful: you bake your intentions and gratitude for the year ahead right into the dough, often using warm spices and honey to symbolize sweetness and good luck.
It made me smile, because even though I’d never heard the name before, I realized… I’ve been doing this all along.
For me, those wishing biscuits are Pfeffernüsse — literally “pepper nuts.” These dense little spice cookies were my father’s favorite, and I will forever be a daddy’s girl. They’re filled with cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, and white pepper — bold flavors that need time to soften into something gentle and complex.
And that’s the magic of them: Pfeffernüsse are actually meant to rest for at least two weeks before eating. The spices mellow. The flavors deepen. They do get a bit harder — not stale, just firm with purpose — a winter cookie that reminds you to slow down.
And the powdered sugar? It gets everywhere. Your hands. Your sweater. The counter. The floor.
I like to believe that’s not a mess — it’s a sign of good luck. Or snow. Or both.
This is what wishing really looks like in my kitchen:
Hands dusted with sugar.
Memories rising with the steam.
Intentions folded into dough.
Time doing the work I can’t rush.
Everything Is Wishing for Something
As the solstice arrives, I picture it all happening at once:
The bees warming their hive.
The bulbs rooting beneath cold soil.
The hops resting into complexity.
The tea steeping slowly in a favorite mug.
The wishing biscuits resting on the counter, becoming more than they were the day before.
None of it rushing.
All of it becoming.
Bee-u-t-Full Traditions & A Solstice Wish for You
Traditions don’t have to be perfect.
They don’t have to be ancient.
They don’t have to look like anyone else’s.
They only have to be yours.
That’s what makes them so truly bee-u-t-full.
So on this longest night of the year — whether your ritual is a candle, a cup of tea, a quiet prayer for your bees, a wish for your garden, or a plate of powdered-sugar-dusted wishing biscuits cooling on the counter — I want to wish you a gentle, hope-filled Winter Solstice.
Bee Real Green has always been about thoughtful connection — and sometimes that happens best one message at a time. If you’d like to share your wishing biscuit thoughts with me, you can always reach me at
queenbee@backyardbeesusa.com
🐝
