Last year while reading one of the many Hobby Farm Magazines that I love to find at the bookstore, I found out that bees of all varieties are in trouble due to a thing called Colony Collapse Disorder. I have yet to find out exactly what happens, but I assume that the colony collapses.
Bees are extremely important to the environment, because they are like the nurses at the fertility clinic for plants. They make more plants possible. While butterflies and a host of other insects are responsible for this too, if you were to put insects into human bodies, I'd take intelligent bee nurse Hazel any day over air-headed butterfly nurse Tiffany any day.
I can actually speak from experience because lately I feel as though I work with butterflies. Not necessarily that the people that I work with are beautiful, but that they are flighty. I cannot get them to stop standing in group, like butterflies, gathering the moisture that is the neighborhood gossip, or the store gossip, or just how their dates went the night before.
I have no problem with socializing at work, but I don't think customers are to be ignored while people discuss the intimate going-ons of their lives while bagging the groceries of complete strangers. Strangers who, from time to time, stand there, wide-eyed and shock because a cashier has just admitted that the previous night they went to a bar, and do not really remember what they did, and have the bruises to prove it.
This just shouldn't be happening.
Butterflies should not be on my front end.
I found out this week, that I could quite possibly be moving to Huntsville, Alabama. Mike could be getting a promotion to Sous Chef which would involve him being moved to a store that needs him.
This is huge news, and I'm extremely excited, but I am also terrified by leaving everything that I know is by the hand of God beautiful to go live in a city, in a cramped apartment either.
This is where MIke and I diverge in opinion, and it's my biggest fear in our relationship. I think where I live is the most beautiful place on the earth, hands down. Mike agrees that it's beautiful, but I'm not sure he appreciates it. I on the other hand enjoy the convenence of city living, with everything being 10 minutes away instead of an hour, and I love the variety and the graffiti, but it's more a place to visit than live.
I need crickets. I need bees.
I saved bees today. At our hopeless Memorial Day Cookout, I noticed tiny baby bumblebees flying into my grandmother's pet taxi. Her dog is so fat, she can no longer sleep in it. She finally told me the other day, that there are a nest of tiny bees living in it, and I need to come see them before she "gets rid of them."
Getting rid of something, in my grandmothers language means to kill it. This woman has a blood lust that would make Genghis Khan jealous.
So I moved them. I fearlessly picked up the purple towel that they had attached their tiny nest of pollen columns to and I put them in a cardboard box and took them up to my house, where I found them a suitable shelter. I hope they survive and that it does not mess up some internal mapping system that bees are said to have.
I don't see killing something that tiny and delicate. The smallest bee was the same size as my pinkie nail. It was adorable. The black and yellow fuzz and the shiny little wings with the wonderful little buzz sound that they make. The bigger bee was teaching them to fly, and mom said it would have been a couple of weeks and then they would have been gone. So why my grandmothers need to massacre the adorable? To declare war on something that wasn't hurting her?
"She's just that way, she's old."
I return to work tomorrow after a difficult day on Sunday, where every attempt I made to make my butterfly cashiers into bees, were twisted into attempt to make me seem petty and underhanded. Apparently me telling a cashier that she was in dress code violation by wearing shorts, meant to her that I was offended by her knees. Mature butterflies I have.
Oh to be a bee. To dance delicately on the breezes and to drink and eat sweet delicious things everyday.
I could only be hoped to be saved myself.
Maybe I am a bee in the wrong place, and God is just trying to move me to a better place.
Who am I to fight it?
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