Apocalypse Bees

It feels like all of Utah is on fire. My car, which I finally washed, is now covered in ash from dust flying on the wind. We are not in Pompeii quite yet, but the heat combined with the debris leans toward the apocalyptic.

Also on the weird side, considering the trouble the United States has been having with bee populations, I have been seeing a lot of them lately. Don’t get me wrong these yellow and black fuzz-balls with a bite are great for the veggies and fruit baring plants in the yard but I remember them so differently from childhood. They used to float along, get in your business for a minute and fly off if you didn’t make too much of a fuss. Not any more.

The other day I went to go lie down on the hammock, only to discover there was a bee on the outdoor pillow that stays with my favorite portable piece of furniture. I sat down in the middle and waited (stupidly) for the uppity little monster to move. I thought I was telegraphing: I’m here. Time to move your pokey little bum someplace else. But I’ll be a monkey’s aunt Rita if that bee didn’t sit there sunning itself, ignoring my advance. I blew on the bee, thinking that a woman-made zephyr might encourage it to move on. Nothing. I shook the pillow- gently (I’m not that stupid) but no response. That bee was perched on its throne and not going to budge come hell, high water or an exploding volcano.

So I left. Yep that’s right, the bee bested me. In my rage, I texted Mel who pointed out that smoke actually calms bees, a very astute point which I had forgotten. In the wrong, I went out to apologize for being so mad. Although I don’t approve, I understand now that the bee might have actually been high and eating Doritos on my pillow. Instead of being snotty, he might have just been a stoner. Consequently, I named him Cheech and wished him well. I am glad to see bees, as they are in decline, despite their antisocial behavior. And I figure that we should be nice to each other considering it is the end of the world.