In between rainstorms, Word and I were able to take an evening walk. As we ambled past different gardens, the humid air would change character, from the scent of viburnums in one place, to dianthus in another, and fading lilacs in a third. Bluebells were still ringing in some yards, while the last petals of tulips were curling off the stems in others.
Ember is not generally pleased about me being outside. But she does like to see what’s hop-popping about in the flower beds and hedgerow….
The NY Times just had an article speculating about whether, given the existence of specific brain anatomy, bees might have some form of awareness. They rule out “why” questions, like “why am I not queen?”, but I can easily imagine that awareness might include some form of “Whew!”….as in…
“Unit has successfully avoided being eaten”
“Unit is wet. Unit does not have stable footing. Unit is out of correct operating temperature range…. NEW DATA: stable footing. NEW DATA: sunlight and warmth. NEW DATA: food available…. PROCESSING….”
…which really means that I’ve fished another three bees out of a bucket of rainwater and set them out to dry on dandelion flowers…
Unsurprisingly, this never caught on….
To be honest, other than the text and the mustaches, there was very little I had to do here; we can compliment/blame Alice Cordelia Morse for her lovely watercolor and gouache work. It’s archived at the Smithsonian, as an image from the Cooper Hewitt Design Museum. I’m reasonably sure that the skull-like blotches around the cross were really meant as shorthand for cherub faces. But scrubbing bubbles [wha-hoo!] are much more entertaining.
We’ve had a houseguest that did not arrive [or leave] on four feet. So perhaps that’s why cleaning has been on my mind?