Bee Farmer

A realization has been reached this week.

I’m not actually a gardener.

I wanted to be a gardener. I wanted to bring in buckets of produce like Buddie’s Mom does; Can tomatoes for the darkness of winter, or sit and visit with my granola friends in skirts and keen sandals while I snap a colander of green beans.

This isn’t going to happen.

What I love is to wander out and look at the flowers and herbs. The joy of seeing the bees buzzing around and the butterflies fluttering…therein lies my delight.

I went out to cut some basil for a meal, and when I moved the huge herb plant that is overshadowing one of the basil plants, I got stung by a bee I inadvertently grabbed. All I could do was smile because there were so many bees that I disturbed one I hadn’t even noticed.

I never think of cutting flowers to bring in the house. That might disrupt a bee or butterfly that needs the nectar. We have some goldfinches who have made their nest somewhere around the house and we spot them in the front garden or in the herb garden by the bird feeder. Yessa has named them “Goldie” and “Bob.”

When you come to visit in the spring and summer, you’ll be able to have fresh herbs in your meal, and you can wander out front and pick a salad of cherry tomatoes.

And in the winter you can look at the dead stalks that I can’t bring myself to cut in case there’s some small critter that wants to make a winter home in them.

Call me a bee farmer or a butterfly gardener and I think we’ll have it just about right.