Pharmacy Roof
Linden-heavy. Our gentlest colonies.
Urban Beekeeping Collective · est. 2019
COMB tends forty-one hives on twelve rooftops — above a pharmacy, a tram depot, a public library. The bees work a six-kilometre radius. We stay out of their way.
Why rooftops
Cities out-bloom farmland now: more flower species per square kilometre, no spray regime, and warmth off the brick that stretches the season three weeks past the orchards. The honey proves it — read the jar, taste the street.
The rooftops
Every site is leased for honey, tended weekly, and named by whoever climbs the ladder first. Colony counts as of this spring.
Linden-heavy. Our gentlest colonies.
Tram-yard bramble. Dark, mineral honey.
Swarm-caught queens. Stubborn, quick.
Reads as lime blossom every June.
Rooftop gardens on three sides.
Ivy in autumn — the last flow of the year.
Highest roof. Lavender windbreak.
Follow a bee — they commute between roofs all day.
The draw
Hawthorn and early lime. Pale as new wax, gone by June.
Linden and clover off the depot roofs. Bright, resinous, faintly of tram sparks — we swear.
Ivy and rosebay. Near-black, sets hard by solstice. The keepers' favourite.
Jars go to members first. What's left sells from the Pharmacy Roof stairwell on harvest Saturdays and is gone by noon.
Join the collective
from $14 a month
Your name lettered on a hive, three jars a year, and first call on harvest days. You'll know your queen by name.
Take a share→eight Saturdays
Smoker to spinner in one season, taught on a working roof. Leave with your own nucleus colony and somewhere to put it.
Book a seat→paid in honey
Own a flat roof that takes sun before nine? Rent it to bees. We haul, tend and insure; you take honey in rent.
Offer a roof→