The bees are officially back. They're everywhere! And so are the blossoms -- it seems like every tree is loaded with them. It's currently snowing pink petals in my driveway, and everything's buzzing with spring energy (pun intended!). I LOVE it.
Something I don't love: The rusty patched bumblebee was recently added to the endangered species list in the U.S. I'm in the brainstorming process of creating a bee snowflake for my Endangered Species collection, so stay tuned for that! Also, consider sponsoring a hive, and buying local honey (my personal favorite if you're in the Ithaca area: Gil's Honey!).
As a tribute to bees (and butterflies), and spring, and blossoms, and sun, here is a beautiful poem by one of my favorites, Mary Oliver.
What is this dark hum among the roses?
The bees have gone simple, sipping,
that’s all. What did you expect? Sophistication?
They’re small creatures and they are
filling their bodies with sweetness, how could they not
moan in happiness? The little
worker bee lives, I have read, about three weeks.
Is that long? Long enough, I suppose, to understand
that life is a blessing. I have found them-haven’t you?—
stopped in the very cups of the flowers, their wings
a little tattered-so much flying about, to the hive,
then out into the world, then back, and perhaps dancing,
should the task be to be a scout-sweet, dancing bee.
I think there isn’t anything in this world I don’t
admire. If there is, I don’t know what it is. I
haven’t met it yet. Nor expect to. The bee is small,
and since I wear glasses, so I can see the traffic and
read books, I have to
take them off and bend close to study and
understand what is happening. It’s not hard, it’s in fact
as instructive as anything I have ever studied. Plus, too,
it’s love almost too fierce to endure, the bee
nuzzling like that into the blouse
of the rose. And the fragrance, and the honey, and of course
the sun, the purely pure sun, shining, all the while, over
all of us.
~ Mary Oliver, from New and Selected Poems: Volume Two