Someone in this photo is not like the others. Yes, this is a yellow jacket, head down in a honeycomb, side-by-side with hundreds of bees. I watched this scenario for a long time yesterday, with my butt planted on the patio dresser that is right in front of Valentine’s colony that lives in my room.
This bee hive is constructed between two studs in my room, and fitted with a double glass panel, so I am able to observe these bees without bothering them all year long. Right now, with all the smoke we’ve had, and the terrible winds before them that destroyed a lot of the flowers and plants in our yard, I am assisting my bees with food—combs of honey I’ve saved from hives that have perished. In this way, the bees who came and went are helping their sisters in this time of havoc… Continue reading
I’ve yet to step into the yard in the early morning, and sense that crispness in the air and in the light and shadow that speaks “autumn” to me in so many ways.
It feels as if the world has tossed herself up into the air, fracturing into billions of intricate puzzle pieces, all of which are now drifting down among us, asking to be recast into a new picture.
Last night, I saw Jesus. It was a sweet, uplifting moment that came with the dawn glow over our side fence. Here is the story of sweet Jesus:
This winter, I decided to trim back even less of my garden when all the plants began their annual march from lush abundance, to spent sticks. As the palette in my yard shifted from greens to splashes of gold and bronze, then finally to shades of pewter, brown, and silver, the winter birds began arriving.
The bare trees clatter their branches together in the strong east winds on this chilly morning. Gone now are the whispered conversations of leaves, the soft hiss of green grasses bending in a summer breeze.