Bee Enduring

Late Dandelion Blooms

September Wild Bee #1

September Wild Bee #2

Great Buckets of Pollen

September Wild Bee #3

Mutual Dandelion Affection

September Collection

Butterflies Appreciate the Blooms, Too

Full

More people are aware of the plight of bees these days, but many are unwilling to consider co-habitation. What if saving the bees means living with them?

Bees increase with late summer. The same people who cheered them on in spring are now asking how to get rid of them. Sadly, this is one reason why we don't have bees. We fear them in proximity.

Mind you, I'm not addressing anyone who has to carry an epi-pen or who might have a colony of killer bees in their shed. This is meant to encourage those of you who care enough for the plight of bees to endure living in harmony.

Honey bees used in agriculture and apiaries. They are not the same as wild bees. Both are pollinators and both are required for us to eat many of our favorite fruits, nuts, legumes and vegetables. Honey bees are used commercially to pollinate crops. Wild bees pollinate our gardens along with butterflies and birds.

I'm no expert. I'm a backyard student, learning about birds and bees, gardens and trees. For experts, please visit your nearest grand land university extension office.

For ideas on how to bee enduring (live harmoniously among the bees), learn to love dandelions.

Spring bees emerge hungry. Dandelions are among the first blooms to offer pollinators food. This is true of fall, too. Now that the temperatures are dipping at night, I've seen the yellow dandelions of spring return to my lawn. Thus, it is a late summer food.

Honey bees have one purpose in winter -- to keep the queen warm. This might sound familiar to my husband who complains that his sole purpose in winter is to keep me warm! Firewood, extra blankets, fuzzy slippers -- yes, I demand these things of him as if I were a queen bee. So I understand the need.

Wild bees hibernate, often in dirt holes or hollow stems. They will feed as long as there are flowers. See how important those dandelions are right now? I'm also letting the hairy vetch spread in my garden and some is even blooming. I discovered this summer how much the bees enjoy hairy vetch flowers, and it's good for my soil to overwinter with a cover of nitrogen-giving hairy vetch.

Bees need food and shelter, and yes, that means they are underfoot. My rule of cohabitation is the same rule for the barn swallows -- do not nest on my porch, around windows or over doors. I keep an eye out for nests or hives and I prevent the building of them while allowing wild space for development (untended yard borders, pastures, outside the garden fence).

I pay attention to where the bees live. One squash plant grew close to a hive beneath my fence so I harvested across the plant without any trouble. I mow with my blades set high so I do not disturb bees that live in the lawn. Get over it. They do and they aren't going to attack you under normal circumstances. If you have abnormal circumstances contact a professional bee remover and do not use chemicals.

Let the dandelions lives. Live with bees; they are fascinating to watch, helpful food partners and I have not found them to be any more aggressive than butterflies. I sit on the lawn and take pictures. They endure me as much as I endure them.

Take time to learn about bees in your area and let go of having a perfect, bee-less yard. If everyone had a bee-less yard, then we'd have no bees. Be willing to create and share space with bees.

Linking up with Abracabadra for Wordless Wednesday. Extra words, dandelions & photos by Charli Mills.

Nurturing the Heart

Dandelions

Feeding Mason Bees

Making Wishes

Makes Me Grumpy, Sometimes

Small Acts

Celebrations

Not a Road for the Car

Dandelions in the Valley, Snow in the Mountains

Eyes on the Pack River

Rushing Snow Melt

Cavorting Dogs

Watching the River...Moose...What Moose?

Danger Lurks in Mossy Trees

The Man Cares for His Dogs & Wife

Watching Dandelions & Mason Bees

Commit Acts that Nurture the Heart

#1000Speak

Mason bees flit from dandelion to dandelion. Their golden wings and small bodies are easy to overlook. Sitting in the grass affords me a closer inspection

I can't understand why anyone would consider dandelions weeds. The blossoms scatter across meadows and lawns like tiny returning summer suns. Often, these blossoms provide the first food for pollinators, like these silent mason bees. Pluck the flowers and you can make dandelion wine. Pluck the feathery globe of dandelion blossoms gone to seed and you hold the power of making wishes in your hand.

The leaves are slightly bitter and edible. Salad season is nearing and already I have greens to add to the mix. Those who do not understand the gift that is a dandelion curse the tap root. Home improvement stores even sell a special tool to dig the roots, not to mention dangerous chemicals to kill the plant. Yet the root and leaves are most beneficial; they detox the liver, prevent diabetes, boost iron and strengthen the heart.

I'm sitting in grass surrounded by mason bees and heart-toners. If not by dandelions, then how do we nurture our hearts?

I've been grumpy with my husband lately. As we approach 28 years of marriage, I recognize a dip. The path to longevity in relationships includes highs and lows. Couples who want to forever be in love are shocked the first time they hit a dip. The heart might recognize love, but we have to do the nurturing. We have to keep our relationships heart-healthy.

Dandelions don't bloom every day of the year and neither does our heartfelt love for one another.

The grumpiness will pass if I practice patience and loving acts. My loving acts are simple and constant, mostly. I cook his breakfast before he goes to work, and most days I cook his dinner, including fabulous BBQs now that the weather is sunny for such outdoor cooking. If I withhold these simple acts, I can almost feel my heart shrink. Yet, I want to experience something other than grumpiness with my spouse.

Some couples renew their wedding vows. I've known people to take elaborate renewal vacations to Hawaii or on cruise lines. Other couples have thrown big shindigs with gaudy party favors and elaborate invites. And some have paired up for high-risk adventure such as zip-lining through the Amazon jungle to re-spark the heart.

For us, the moment simply happened, unplanned without invites or plane tickets. We renewed our vows of commitment through a shared near-death, heart-stopping experience.

With the return of dandelions and mason bees, the roads to the upper Pack River are free of snow. Well, almost. It started out with me feeling grumpy toward him because he was driving our car up what was more or less a muddy two-track winding higher and muddier into the mountains. We reached a spot rutted by 4-wheel drive trucks and I said, "We can't go through that."

He grinned and shifted the car -- a car, not a truck -- and said, "Yes we can."

Gripping my seat, grumpiness flared into full marital fury. Why had I married a three-year-old? When would he grow up?

We made it through only to get high enough up the road where the snow was yet drifting and melting. Beneath a tall span of pines was a clear patch where we could get turned around. I could see the roaring Pack River coursing with spring snow melt and I wanted photos. Once turned around, we stopped and I headed to the river.

The silts in the Selkirk mountains are blue-gray. When the snow melts and silts churn, the water doesn't look muddy, it appears glacial blue. With huge frothing rapid over boulders that range in size from pumpkins to smart-cars, the river echoed down the forested canyon. With eyes only for the river, I didn't heed my surroundings.

Our dogs -- his dogs -- cavorted like children and stepped into the churning waters. They galloped upstream and I snapped my camera doing a full circle and when I saw my spouse coming at me he looked grim and determined. Had he grown heart-weary of our relationship, too? He seemed on course to push me into the river.

In a low and calm voice he said two words, "Charli...moose.."

How I missed walking right past a moose, which is as large as a horse, is beyond me. Even the dogs zipped past her. Her. The worst gender to meet on the trail when dandelions are in full bloom in the valleys below. A female moose is deadly.

Just then, my husband did an incredible thing; he stepped between me and her. That one act was greater than 28 years of cooking breakfasts. That one act renewed our vows of love, commitment. That one act nurtured both our hearts. He took on til death do us part. And we were looking at it.

Incredibly, our dogs returned from up river and saw the moose and gave her chase. His dogs -- our dogs -- stepped between us and her. What happened next is unheard of; the moose turned and ran. Moose do not turn and run. Moose kick, charge and stomp. They hold their ground. This one did not, and Todd told me to run to the car. He went after the dogs.

Once at the car, which is not necessarily safe as moose are capable of destroying a car, I called for those dogs like a desperate mother calling for a lost child. Todd trailed them for almost a mile before they turned back miraculously unscathed. It was a miracle that none of us were injured.

My husband knows he has hero status now. I don't doubt his love. Nurturing is vital, big or small acts. We have to nurture our own hearts to be able to love another. We have to practice that love when it is difficult.

Those dogs mean the world to my husband. I know that without a doubt. But I know that I mean the world to him, too and he to me. So when I feel stuck with a special needs dog, I remember what we all mean to one another.

So here I sit among the dandelions and mason bees holding my dog -- our dog -- in the throes of a full seizure. It's a little act, one he knows I'll do because I love him and these two dogs. The other dog waits patiently by the door understanding that his sister is helpless but being helped. He'll lick her face when we return inside.

Nurturing the heart is never easy, but we can't mistake dandelions for weeds. Sometimes the very things that annoy us, feed us. Embrace a life full of dandelions and live the big and small moments fully.


This post is part of a #1000Speak movement happening every month. Learn more at 1000Speak for Compassion.