Hour of the Bees

For Serge, personal identity connects strongly to the sheep ranch; his life is shaped around the natural world and the tasks necessary to care for, shear, and cull his sheep. The novel further contextualizes Serge’s connection to the land through his story, which Carol initially interprets as fantastical fiction but is later revealed as true, about his boyhood and young adulthood in the enchanted village around the magical tree and lake.

For Serge, the ranch contains his life story. Elements of this story include the stump of the tree that gave him and Rosa centuries of immorality, the barn where he first lived with Rosa and Raúl, and the ranch house, which he built himself using wood from the magic tree. Serge clashes with his family, who (without the shared context of Serge’s life there) view the arid property and dated ranch house with derision and even disgust, particularly in light of the need to clean it up for sale. Carol describes the ranch to her friend Gabby as “awful” and “too hot” (30). Carol envies her friends: “[T]hey get to stay in Albuquerque and hang out while I’m stuck here for the summer” (30). Carol’s initial resentment of the ranch parallels her resentment of her Hispanic identity, as symbolized by her dislike of her Spanish name, Carolina. Serge, confused by his granddaughter’s hatred of the ranch and by her anglicizing her name, asks, “Why do you spit on your roots, chiquita?” (25). “Roots” has both a literal and metaphorical meaning; Serge believes that his family should honor their Mexican identity and believes that they should continue their family’s legacy on the ranch; he’s devastated that Raúl plans to sell it.

Influenced by Serge, Carol feels increasingly connected to the ranch. She criticizes her father for burning down the termite-ridden barn and for indifferently selling the family’s place of origin, echoing Serge’s sentiments and revealing his growing impact on Carol’s feeling of connection to the land and her family’s story: “It’s his history, his family. It’s his roots” (117). Carol realizes the extent of her attachment to the ranch when she returns to Albuquerque and finds that she no longer feels at home there. The sounds of the city are “deafening,” and Carol feels that she can’t breathe: “I inhale a blast of car exhaust and cough for three straight minutes” (245). Furthermore, she interprets her surroundings using imagery from the ranch: “When we pose in the mirror, our bags all slung over our left shoulders, I think of the sheep at the ranch, how they would stand so close together they blurred into a single pulsating puffball” (250), illustrating that it’s now the ranch, rather than the city, that feels familiar and that forms a baseline from which to create comparison. This foreshadows her return to the ranch.

When Carol plants the seed from her grandmother’s closet, it’s a symbolic reinvestment in the family’s land. This reinvestment, assisted by the magical intervention of the bees and the enchanted nature of the tree, immediately changes the land; the bees bring the lake back, the magical tree grows, and the land becomes lush and fertile once again: “Green grass shot out in an almost-perfect circle around the tree and the lake. An oasis” (327). Carol takes Serge to see the transformed land, which allows him to conclude that one needn’t fear death if one lives a complete and happy life; the returned health of the ranch and the growth of a new magical tree that his family will nurture allows Serge to embrace his impending death.

Symbolically, Carol’s family recommits to life on the ranch: “‘That’s our ranch,’ Dad says, knotting his hands together. ‘It belongs to us. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s our land. It always has been, and we shouldn’t ever let it go’” (323). The family’s move back to the ranch parallels a movement back toward their Hispanic roots, as Lu and Carol illustrate in changing their names back to Luis and Carolina, emphasizing the ranch’s role in defining the family’s Hispanic identity.