On a recent dry and sunny September day I surveyed yet again my overgrown gardens, unpicked vegetables and my dogs in need of grooming. Weeks had passed with so many human things to do and problems to solve. The flurry of visits were long over and the tomato plants were well past their prime. Buckets and buckets of vibrant, softening tomatoes mixed with the last green fruit of the season and fruit flies hinted that if something wasn’t done soon the husk cherries would be gobbled up by tiny invaders.
Oliver the cat yawned. Don’t worry, he seemed to say. You’ve made it this far and the shelves are filled with salsa and sauce. Calm down. Time to look at the flowers before the frost ends their lovely little lives.
I have a confession. Up until quite recently if a bee got too close I’d often run and scream. My best friend still has the scars on her arm from when I in panic grabbed her arm so she wouldn’t run from the bee crawling up my arm.
Now I think they’re so damned cute. Pollinators are cute even if they don’t produce honey. This year we lost two hives and my husband with a busy schedule has avoided the ones we have left because being responsible for thousands of tiny lives and seeing so much death is so depressing. At least when you kill a cow it’s only one life, he says (we haven’t killed any cows, btw).
I’m thinking maybe I should step up to the plate, suit up and help these little guys and gals since I’ve learned to enjoy their company. There’s something so comforting in the days of the final fall flowers, the asters and the goldenrod, to hear the busy buzzing of bumbles and honeys.
As a gift to my blogging friends, I’m sending out free seed packets of Black-Eyed-Susans and Painted Daisys to the first ten bloggers who comment here or at middlemaybooks.com