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Me and the Bumblebee

Bumblebee and I pass in the afternoon sunlight. Me, sighing in the heat, he zooming along, bigger than any bee I think I’ve ever met. We both settle on the same piece of earth. I sweat. He drinks of flowers. I pull weeds, dig, plant, rock back on my knees to survey the new view. I give him new nectar. He takes. Zooms again. Settles on his next course and I know that we share the work.


I never expected to love the garden quite so much. I always knew that I wanted to enjoy it, but never knew this was so much a part of me. I plant 13 new little plants today. Some are probably too late for the season, but who could resist giving 75% off fruits and veggies at Stockdale’s a fighting chance? I wake up early most mornings, just to pull up the weeds, not wanting any plants choked out. I’ll never get caught up. Much like housekeeping, I realize.


And I’m glad.


And it’s today, as the fat bumblebee and I pass by the Maple, that I realize why this realization makes me happy:


It’s here that I am Eve. 











God and I, we walk in the Garden. So tomorrow, I’ll come back, hoping to grow as fat as the Bumblebee.