Posts Tagged bees

On the cusp.

The bulbs push shoots up, invisible until they blow apart.

The lichen population is not impressed by spring stirrings.

Boiling, freezing, drought or flood, they’re good, they’re perpetual.

On the shadow side, north facing, the last snow patch lingers.

The branch roars, swollen from the recent rain and the recent snow.

Passing cataracts and icicles,

from the twin springs just below the ridge, down this far,
down to the branch, on to the Mississippi, to the Gulf.

The crocus bulbs have called spring!


The light stripey ones,

delicate and bright,

already sticking to the bee’s knees as she crawls inside

to work, drunk on the golden pollen.

The deep purple clump

And the grandest bloom of all,

serene, imperial,
except for the pollen knocked around her ankles.

Rapture and ravishing.

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Pretty is.

Pretty sometimes just is,
enough, with no buts, ands, or ifs.


Bees! Pollin’s up! Limited time offer.


Even the silly flowers

and the wild willies.

Here we go again

with the pollination invitation.


It doesn’t get any better

where the bee sucks — oh, yes — right there.


Don’t be greedy, don’t crash and burn from overweighted knees,
a hundred yards from the bee tree.

The curve turns,
the dead heads tossed in the brush
free the stems to bloom again.

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A bee’s got to do: playing with flowers.

Before color photography, this is how flowers looked.


Before colors.

I’m glad to live in the days of  color.

After colors.

Great gladness.

Even with tans and grays we can distinguish a thousands shade, so many more than fifty.
Millions is still better fun, eyeball ice cream.

Coral riff.

Nearer my glad.

Reds and yellows.

Soft focus.

Golden rose.

Love these fellows.


True colors.

What is the opposite of butter?



And gray is the new green?



I think some camera control options are meant to be left alone.

Not really.

Pink, after.

No. That’s scary. My tool box is red and it’s bright sun outside.

Use what you have.

A writer`s toolbox.

Ah, outside. Much better. Sunshine and flowers.

Blooming up.


And clutching and clambering about the blossoms, the big speckled butterfly does his business.

On the liatris.

Swallowtail at work.

From the top, with a blue streak up the middle.
It’s pollination all day long, from the flower’s point of view.

Hanging out.

Swallowtail, the dark side.

The bees are also leaving footprints everywhere.
But they’re not feeding, they’re collecting.

Bee load glade.

Bees knees.

And this lady better head home while she can still fly.
Pollen sacs are filling fast.

It is time.

Saddle bags.

Not a camera trick: the green leaf is red when the sun shoots through.
Opaque green/gray when top lit.

Sun trick.

Red through.

How we rock, when there have been too many colors to contemplate.

Mirror me.

Rocking corner.

Or back indoors, on the other side of the one-way mirror.
The witness has self-interrogated, -charged, -convicted.

Sentence pending.

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