How little I know
Spellbound in these long garden moments, I watch stingless bees fly in and out of their hive at astounding, death-defying speeds.
The wind is turbulent, swirling, strong, gusty.
• Stingless bee hive in Chippendale paddock - look close at it - little black dot is a b zooming in to land at the tiny ‘front door’. (Thank you, lovely, generous Earth.)
How, I wonder, can that tiny thing, no bigger than the b in this letter b fly at speed into that tiny ‘front door’ and not kill itself?
• One of the boundaries on the Chippendale paddock, looking toward the hive
How can the departing tiny b things fly out faster than my eyes may track them?
How little I know.
Wondering am I at how ‘druggy’ - ‘transporting”? - it must be for the b flying out to zoom like a taking-off rocket, “Through a glass darkly”, up into the air-gusting wind. Fearless, confident, born aloft.
To sit and be amazed at the beyond science doings in my little back yard is to rise in my mind’s eye, look down on myself, to feel deliciously inconsequential.
Try it. Liberating, calming . . . simplifying.
(With or without b ssss.)