Spring Is Here. It Could Be Worse. I Could Be A Bee.Posted: March 25, 2011
If I were a bee, you and I would get along just fine.
I’m not prone to getting overly excited about things. Under the circumstance of being a bee, I’d probably make an additional effort to be cool-headed about whatever went on around me. After all, I’d have enough peers who were ready to fly off the handle at any provocation. There are plenty of bees zipping around out there with a chip on their shoulder.
No one really wins when someone carries around that kind of bad attitude. Interests clash, someone ends up stung. The other party flies off, without a stinger, to spend their last few moments regretting having lost their temper.
I’d be the kind of bee you’d like to have around, unless you’re of the mindset that I’m responsible for flying around and pollinating plants so you’ll have stuff to eat.
I Don’t Want To Get Involved With That
I’m allergic to pollen. That would make life as a bee pretty tough. Here is a video of a bee who has just returned to the hive after finding some food. He gets the attention of his friends, then does a dance to tell them where the pollen is:
I would return to the hive, sneezing and coughing, and dance to deliver a completely different message. That message is – “this pollen is kicking my butt. Y’all help yourself, I’m going to take some NyQuil, lie down and watch TV.”
People are usually empathetic when their friends get sick. I guess bees are probably the same way, except when that friend gets sick every year during their busy season. Yes, being a bee with an allergy to pollen would be a difficult and lonely existence.
Spring Has Sprung
Things are green here in North Carolina. I’m so happy to be warm again and see leaves on the trees. I can go outside in a Hawaiian shirt and some shorts. I don’t even have to have shoes on; I just go right out in the yard with my Fred Flintstone feet.
I look forward to this time of year all winter. Then, whatever is blossoming this week does its thing and I become a mess.
It could be worse though. I could be a dancing bee, red-eyed and sneezing, shaking what I’ve got in front of my friends. They’d stand there and watch for a bit and one would turn to another and ask “what’s he trying to say?”
“I don’t know, I’m just glad he’s too sick to sing.”
Ah-choo, everyone. Welcome to spring.