This morning, while I walked through my garden, I saw a bee on one of the flowers I planted. We have these trees in the back that have lots of flowers on them, and they’re covered in bees all day long. I’ve been seeing hummingbirds there, too. But I never seem to see bees in the flower garden I planted specifically for them to enjoy. So seeing just one this morning made me really happy.
There are so many metaphors in my garden: the bits I tried so hard to grow that never took root. The plants I have cared for season after season that have reached the end of their natural lives and will be cleared away for new plants. The flowers I pollinate myself. The scars where I pruned dead or dying stems. The new, delicate, hopeful growth.
And, of course, the bee.