Spring is here! And I really think it plans to stick around this time. In fact, I'm going to officially go on record as saying that there will be no further need for warm winter coats until next November. I'm even packing them away I'm so sure of this prophesy. From here on out, it's barefoot on the patio days.
Now, you might be wondering what Little Miss Sunshine is doing on her knees there. Well, if you look really closely at the grout line, you'll see a tiny speck. That little dot is actually this:
A poor little bee who'd lost the will or perhaps the ability to fly. Maybe because he got a little overzealous with the pollen collection and was too heavy to take flight? That yellow stuff on him is pollen, right? If not, ew.
So yes, we were studying a bee yesterday. The little stinger kept crawling all over the patio fluttering his wings to no avail. It's a wonder the poor thing didn't fall over dead from fright because Iverson kept sticking his nose right up against him and slobbering all over the place. Which caused Amaya to chase after the dog screaming: "Don't eat him!" It was quite comical. Also she gets her compassion from me. Obviously.
The kids decided that since bees like flowers, maybe if they gave him one he'd get well and take to the sky once again.
Sadly, the daffodil did not captivate the bee enough for him to forget that he should be walking away from the giant striped arm instead of toward it. I ended up relocating our insect friend to the yard, and we eventually lost track of him. I fear it may have been his final hours, but at least he did not meet his maker by the paws of a silly Australian Shepherd.
You may be wondering why the kids weren't running screaming from the bee. Well they did at first. But I gently reminded them that the bee won't bother them if they don't bother the bee--which is basically my line for every squiggly, squirmy creature one might encounter in nature. Which, yes I know is not 100% true, but true enough that I feel little guilt about continuing to repeat the phrase. Plus bees aren't really something to be afraid of unless you happen to be allergic to them.
I know what you're thinking right now: But they sting! Bees sting! Pain! Pain is something to fear! And yes, you might have a point there, but you see my view on the whole bee thing has been so skewed that I can't really be made to see reason. What? You want to know the story? Well, if you insist...
We must go back, way back, back into time. Back to when I was just a small fry--maybe 5?-- and my family had an apple tree in the front yard. My dad decided that it would be my chore to pick up the apples that had fallen to the ground and put them into a 5 gallon bucket. When the bucket was full, I was done with my chore for the day. And I'd get a dollar; a crisp GW of my very own. Thus, I was quite happy to prance around the yard tossing apples into a bucket--I mean do you know how much penny candy a dollar could buy? 100 pieces? Um, no actually inflation had risen the price of penny candy to 5¢, so only 20. Still, that's a lot of sugar to a kindergartner.
But do you know what likes to land on and feast upon rotting apples? Wasps. And do you know how angry they get when you try to pick up their tasty treat and throw it in a plastic cylinder? Very. It was usually after the 4th or 5th sting that my mom would take pity on me and end the misery by taking me inside to rub a solution of water and baking soda on my welts. I don't think I ever lasted long enough to get a single bucket full that entire summer. But what I did get is desensitized to the fear of being stung by a bee--sure it smarts a bit, but only for a minute or two. Ten max. Oh and I also got my dollar. Every time.
