The land is so dry, yet the Bee is soaked - steeped in pollen.
What am I to do - feel concern for lack of rain or delight in the sun? Why do I feel I need to do anything? And although I would say "I don't" I know that somewhere at the back of my head there is human chatter about the state of Nature, the Earth, Climate and how the heck we will cope. Not just other people's voices but also my own memory of past seasons of rain and showers and manageable sunny days.
Somewhere in our childhood picture books Christmases were white, followed by Springs of mad-March winds and April showers. Summers were golden and warm, whilst glorious multi-coloured Autumns led into rainy days, crisp-cold if we were lucky. Of course in my childhood book there was also coal burning away to create stink and smog.
Life is such a complex layering of births and deaths. It is itself as a daisy-chain - one to gently weave around us as much of celebratory festooning as it is a fearful tying down as if by Lilliputians.
We can now, if we choose to, loosen our own shackles of past times. And as we let go of how things used to be - beneficial and non-beneficial - something will fill the gap. And that's what bothers us. A lot. We don't yet have a picture book for a comforting story of what that will be.
Yet look at this bee soaked in pollen. Look at how the end of one phase of life for the flower is the beginning of new life for the hive. Look how the bee enables a new phase of life for a whole field of flower and seed whilst taking itself one day closer to its own individual demise. Somewhere in this bath of beauty is a reminder that Life, the concept and reality of our existence, is an ongoing meld of births and deaths. And that is OK, it is just how it is.
This is all about Life.
Life as the constant seasonal birther; Life as the constant seasonal decayer.
We can choose to mow down and dig up the array of life we feel we cannot control. We can choose to consume plastic and chemically enhanced alternatives to replace them. Or we can act with reciprocity and fall into the many petalled basin of freely-gifted gold to soak ourselves as we surrender to something that is really rather unknown to us: the gift of Life.