What an utterly gorgeous weekend. Sunshine, cooler weather hovering in the low 20's, completed yard work, clean birdhouse, ready for next spring's inhabitants. (Thank heavens we did not find any unfortunate surprises in there as was the case last year, this year they all appear to have fledged.) Even the bees have been busy searching out those last blossoms before the sudden temperature drop which is inevitable.
Bees have always been fascinating to me. I remember when I was a little girl, maybe four or five years old, I was having a stayover at my grandfather's farm in Saskatchewan. I enjoyed spending time with him, trailing behind while he puttered around with the chores and the farm work. He always looked me in the eye when I talked to him, and he always answered me whenever I had something four-year-oldish to say no matter how menial must have sounded to him.
I remember one day we were in the garden. It must have been late summer as it was lush with vegetables, berries, blossoms, flowering shrubs, and most notably a great number of gladiolas in every conceivable colour towering high above my head. It was during a careful study of the gladiolas when I began to notice a significant number of bees buzzing everywhere around me. Naturally I panicked. Immediately attentive my grandfather took the time to calm my fears. He proceeded to explain how the bees had no interest in me whatsoever as they were far too busy collecting nectar to make honey for the winter. Moving slowly and calmly so as to avoid startling them, he began to pet some of the bees lightly on their backs to demonstrate. I watched him intently as he did this, then I did as well. Amazingly, the bees did not seem to mind in the least and continued on busily without so much as a bother. This moment was significant for me and I have never forgotten it. I have also never forgotten my grandfather's reaction when I moved to share my new found love with a nearby wasp. Clearly this friendship was not to be prescribed to the wasp population, and from a distance I was tutored on its voracious nature.
He is gone now, my grandfather. He never knew it, but he gave me two precious gifts that day... a lifelong fondness for bees and the very special memory of a little girl, surrounded by the warm buzzing of bee-filled gladiolas, in the garden with her grandfather.