Bees in the Clover
The other day I was watching a bumblebee work its way through the clover in the yard.
It moved from one bloom to the next without much hesitation. Land. Gather what it needed. Move on. Then do it again.
What surprised me was how close I could get. I kept expecting it to fly off when I stepped closer, but it never seemed concerned about me. It had something to do, and I wasn't part of it.
The longer I watched, the more pollen I could see building up on its legs. Every stop added a little more. It would disappear into a bloom for a few seconds, come back out, and head to the next one. Part of me knew what it was doing. It's gathering pollen and nectar. I know that much. But somewhere along the way, I realized I didn't really know the rest of the story.
At some point it has to decide it's carrying enough. Then it heads home. Somehow it knows exactly where that home is. The funny thing is, I never saw it leave.
I watched it gather pollen. I watched it move from bloom to bloom. But I never saw the moment when it decided the job was finished. Maybe I wasn't watching long enough. Or maybe there were more bees than I realized, and I simply lost track of the one I'd been watching.
I've lived here for about thirty years, and those bees have probably been working their way through this same clover every summer. They've likely been doing exactly what I watched that afternoon for as long as I can remember. I just never stopped long enough to notice.
The more I watched, the more it seemed the bee knew exactly what it was doing. I was the one with all the questions.
Eventually I went back to whatever I was supposed to be doing. The bee stayed right where it was, moving from clover bloom to clover bloom, still working.
I went back to my day... still wondering