Bursting and Buzzing
Well the trees are blooming and you know what that means? Bees. There is a row of pink flowering trees (by Friday I promise to find out what they are) along the great lawn below a small grove of cedar trees here at The Bishop’s Ranch. Once a year the three old trees put on a brief show. I walk up that hill every day for a few weeks when the buds begin to show because I don’t want to miss the performance that these old gals have been rehearsing for years. It is the same review in pink tutus with lilting crimson petals and sweet wafting scents that they put on every year. But the final recital punctuated in pink when most of the blossoms have burst, before the green leaves shuffle them off the stage, is worth seeing every year. This last time I walked up the great lawn these lovely ladies were in full song. There was a faint harmony barely audible from my distance that drew me in for closer scrutiny. The song was clear and strong and from this vantage point the trees came alive not just in shades of pink but with a busy little song that could only be one thing, bees. The trees where abuzz with striped aviators, rising, resting and collecting with an industry that was in contradiction to the festive pink party atmosphere. Many a sleek honeybee and stout bumbley bee were on the job, legs laden with pollen in a labor of instinct and (I like to think) love of community. And so I leave you this Monday with a hum of industry fused with the fuchsia of fancy, and this little poem:
The breeze, the trees, the honeybees –
That’s all for now, so until Friday let’s get busy making something sweet to share with our community and we might as well hum a little song while we’re at it!
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