Friday, September 21, 2012

End of bees

I'm losing my patience for today.  I'm tired of watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse three million times.  Tired of yelling at the dogs to "Get down! Be quiet!  Knock it off!"  Tired of telling Dylan he can't play with his crayons only to have him throw two handfuls across the room.

I woke up feeling miserable--my fault because I skipped my anti-nausea meds yesterday thinking I didn't need them--and Dylan wanted so badly for me to hold him so I was trying to cuddle my child while gagging and when I finally just needed to go get sick Dylan screamed and cried Mamaaaa as he banged on the bathroom door.   He didn't understand, couldn't understand, why I would leave him behind instead of holding him under a blanket on the couch as we do every morning.  Sean helplessly looked on because Dylan refused to go to him and instead continued his wailing in the hallway.

Fast forward to twenty minutes later.  I get a call from Sean saying that his car--technically it's my stupid car but that detail isn't important--was broken down on the side of the road and we needed to come pick him up.  The three of us waited rather impatiently for over an hour before the tow truck driver finally arrived.  Ever try keeping a toddler occupied for over an hour while strapped into a carseat?  Sean was busy rummaging through his glove box for paperwork as I counted and sang and danced and played I Spy.  Dylan cried and screamed and fussed. 

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But enough about today.  I want to talk about this little guy.

This picture kills me.  The weather is getting colder as autumn starts tomorrow and this bee was barely clinging to life yesterday.

Robert Frost writes about the cycle of life so perfectly:

Nature's first green is gold, 
Her hardest hue to hold. 
Her early leaf's a flower; 
But only so an hour. 
Then leaf subsides to leaf. 
So Eden sank to grief, 
So dawn goes down to day. 
Nothing gold can stay.
There is something sacred about bees, these tiny threatening creatures.  I look forward to seeing them come spring and my heart hurts to see them slowly die in the fall.  There is something about watching such a powerful creature metamorphosize into an infant again.  All creatures follow the same pattern, they live and they die, but I often notice the bees.