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A grandfather beekeeper initiates his grandson into the secrets of bees and respect for nature. Winter sleep, awakening, life of a queen, swarming, honey extraction. Notes: picture book. A thick blanket of snow covered the roof of the bee house. The cold winter wind hissed whirling the white flakes through the bare branches of the trees. In the kitchen, Martin stood with his forehead against the glass contemplating the swirling flakes. "Look, Grandpa," he exclaimed cheerfully, "the snowflakes look like bees! In summer they, too, whirl through the air buzzing! " " Perhaps, " replied Grandfather, who was warming himself by the hearth; and he added, smiling, " Call them bees in winter, the snowflakes, but you can never get honey out of them to spread on bread. " Just then a gust stronger than the others raised a white swirl from the roof of the shed. " Ouch, ouch, grandfather! you will see that the roof of the summer bees will end up uncovered and so they will have to dance along with the winter bees! " ...

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