Autumn in August

Honeybee sipping raindrops, I think, from a hanging basket; that, or the fading flower is dripping nectar.

Honeybee sipping raindrops, I think, from a hanging basket; that, or the fading flower is dripping nectar.

I, too, am always after the new. It gives me a thrill to capture an angle on a bee that I haven’t caught before, to see a new species of fly or wasp on a flower. I, too, am always after the new: I simply choose my new to be tamer, less risky, than many people do. Not for me a new black diamond ski slope or a slackrope across a canyon, not for me an undersea dive for treasure. Just, for me, a new bee.

Not only are there more than a dozen bumblebee species that live around here, turns out there are some flies that are extraordinary bee mimics. Who knows which this is? I guess if I do ever go back to school it will have to be in entomology.

Not only are there more than a dozen bumblebee species that live around here, turns out there are some flies that are extraordinary bee mimics. Who knows which this is? I guess if I do ever go back to school it will have to be in entomology.

Another bumblebee, I think Bombus huntii.

Another bumblebee, I think Bombus huntii.

What I once thought were shiny black bees, before I looked at them through my magic lens, turn out to be probably a species of Tachinid fly, perhaps Voria ruralis.

What I once thought were shiny black bees, before I looked at them through my magic lens, turn out to be probably a species of Tachinid fly, perhaps Voria ruralis.

Autumn came on August first. It’s not been summer since. Monsoonal flow brought rains and cooler nights. Summer seems to have evaporated. The yard has become a jungle, ten foot tall sunflowers I’ve had to limb up to allow light to the vegetables. Grasshoppers demolish potato plants. I’ve hardly had to water in the past week. Rocky mountain beeplant, or beeweed as the ranger calls it, looked scrawny, unpromising earlier, is now thick and blooming, claiming the attention of the bees and hummingbirds.

And finally another honeybee, who can't keep her tongue in her mouth while flying.

And finally another honeybee, who can’t keep her tongue in her mouth while flying.

You just never know what a day will bring, what joys and delights, what trials and fears. My friend has returned to the hospital with complications following West Nile virus. My aunt has had a second surgery for a fracture following her partial hip replacement. Both of them the dearest, kindest people one could know; neither deserving such suffering. I am doing what little I can do from here for both; and, I am doing my best to enjoy this gorgeous day. My “basic flaw” may be my tendency to believe I am never doing enough.

 

 

6 thoughts on “Autumn in August

  1. Love the bees and flowers. It’s harder to love the flies, perhaps they serve a higher purpose too, pollination.

  2. Thanks for the beautiful pictures. That is something nice for us all to wake up to. I hear your basic flaw and raise you one… 🙂 Much love.

  3. The bee is magical, more complex and satisfying than a slackline will ever be. Your loving kindness, dear Sweeta, is a horn-of-plenty for those whom you care for.

    And I know your sharp editor’s eye will cringe at the above sentences… 😉

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