Today was my 58th birthday. It seems much worse than it is when I put it in writing. Ouch. That hurt.
The sting (pun intended, keep reading) was lessened by the fact that I was in the gorgeous wine country of California, in Sonoma County. When I arrived, it was cold and overcast, not something I ordered for my weekend birthday celebration. Try as I might, I succumbed somewhat to a slight case of melancholy at the sight of clouds. Even so, I made the best of a not-so-great situation.
When I woke this morning, I anxiously walked over to the curtains, pulled them back and, ugh, clouds again. After a Starbucks run and breakfast, I decided to take a shower, then head to Sonoma, giving up on my plans to hit the pool. But then something magical happened. The sun came out. It didn't take long for me to shimmy into my suit and hit the beach chair, happy for warmth and a pool all to myself.
At some point, I ventured into the water and, much to my chagrin, found two bees, struggling to escape the chilly water. If you know me, you realize I will go to great lengths to save a bee in distress. Today was no different. I went to work, frantically rescuing one, then the second, bee. The irony of this situation never escapes me: people cannot wait to get into the water and bees cannot wait to get out.
The first bee was not moving, and I thought it may be a goner. The second had more movement, but neither made an attempt to fly. My work was not finished. I grabbed a nearby leaf, carefully lifted the worse-off bee, and carried it to some nearby purple flowers. I reasoned the sun, and some nourishment might be the jump-start it needed. I carefully placed bee number one on some blooms, then went back to get bee number two.
I followed the same steps, leaf in hand. He eagerly stepped onto it, then I carried him to the same flowers, setting him down close to his friend. Bee number two was active but still did not take flight.
I reluctantly returned to my lounge chair but couldn't rest. I kept going back over, willing the creatures to fly, whispering bee-sized prayers as I stood by helplessly. Bee number two seemed to be gathering nectar from a flower, then boom, much to my delight, he flew away, drops of water falling from his tiny body as he departed.
Meanwhile, bee number one continued to laboriously move. I talked to him, told him he could do it, spurred him on. I went back to my chair, getting up several more times to check on his progress. Finally, probably an hour later, he took flight.
Exhausted but happy, I decided to spend a bit of time in the hot tub to de-stress. On my way, I glanced down at the pool and saw bee number three, frantically trying to free himself. I stooped down, and with a small wave of water, threw him out of the pool. By now I was an expert at gathering a bee, then gently placing it on pretty purple flowers. This one was quite active, quickly shaking off the shock. After some quick nourishment, he was off as well.
I had been seeking something to write about today, other than reflecting on my 58th birthday. The bees provided me all I needed. As I hung out with them, it became obvious to me that they crave what we all do: a bit of sun, some nourishment and someone in their corner, urging them to not give up.
After I had got my sun at the pool, I went to an amazing Italian restaurant and received my nourishment: salad, gnocchi and a wonderful amaretto chocolate torte. The people in my corner were all those who sent me texts and messages on Facebook today.
I would say that both the bees and me had a pretty darn satisfying day. I saved their lives and, in a small way, they saved mine.