Bees

When it comes down to it, humans and bees are not all that different. Sure, we don't have the ability to sting whatever is bothering us, and we also don't vomit honey, but this story shows us that bee life is just a big ole' microcosm of human beings and their relationships. Kidd draws a clear analogy between the bees that Lily traps in her jar and Lily herself early on. When Lily decides to set the bees free, she notes:

But the bees remained there, like planes on a runway not knowing they'd been cleared for takeoff. They crawled on their stalk legs around the curved perimeters of the glass as if the world had shrunk to that jar. I tapped the glass, even laid the jar on its side, but those crazy bees stayed put. (1.215)

Not too many pages later, Lily realizes that she herself is sticking around in the "jar" of her unhappy home life, even though she is actually free to fly the coop:

You could say I'd never had a true religious moment, the kind where you know yourself spoken to by a voice that seems other than yourself, spoken to so genuinely you see the words shining on trees and clouds. But I had such a moment right then, standing in my own ordinary room. I heard a voice say, Lily Melissa Owens, your jar is open. (2.72)

She never explicitly makes the connection, but it's clear that she already feels a kind of kinship with the bees, and that only strengthens and deepens as the novel goes on.

August broadens the analogy when she's teaching Lily about how to treat the bees, likening her honey-producing friends to the entire human race. As Lily recalls:

She reminded me that the world was really one big bee yard, and the same rules worked fine in both places. Don't be afraid, as no life-loving bee wants to sting you. Still, don't be an idiot; wear long sleeves and long pants. Don't swat. Don't even think about swatting. If you feel angry, whistle. Anger agitates, while whistling melts a bee's temper. Act like you know what you're doing, even if you don't. Above all, send the bees love. Every little thing wants to be loved. (5.72)

That does seem like fairly solid advice for most human relationships (and it's not entirely unheard of to think of irritable relatives as bees, no?).

Bee life also mirrors the matriarchal structure of August's own household and spiritual life—or maybe August and the Daughters of Mary modeled these aspects of their life around bees. Whatever the direction of influence, bee life and life in the pink house are two sides of the same coin. A hive contains "no Ozzie, just Harriet and her ten thousand daughters" (5.80), and August's community includes a "mother of thousands" (i.e., Our Lady of Chains) and a multitude of daughters (the Daughters of Mary). And as you already probably figured out, it is the "secret" life of these women that the novel cares about most . . . not bees.