Sunday, August 12

Bee friends again!

They appear to have forgiven me. Perhaps they are simply drunk on Rocky Mountain beeplant, which thrives like a weed from recent rains. I kind of suspected the bees might be taking me on to the next level, but I didn’t expect the challenge would take quite this form. The beetastrophe has forced me to quiet the voices inside my head, and really hear the sounds outside. The buzzing of a single bee. I give this yard to the honeybees, a keystone species; indeed, a top predator as much as any mountain lion, tiger, or bear. Layers of flowers circle this chair.

Happy Bumblebee!

You can see the shadow of this bee’s tongue inserted into the flower.

 

 

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