A thousand bees are drinking nectar and collecting pollen in my garden this week, so it’s time I posted this poem I’ve been tasting for a while. Twice this week I went out to photograph the buzzers, but most of the time with little luck. They are too busy to pose for me!
THE HISTORY OF HONEY
“The History of Honey” — by an aged mandarin, And I bought it for the pictures of the burnished bees therein.
For the dainty revelations, masquerading up and down, For the odor of the sandalwood that talked of China-town.
According to the mandarin, the Oriental bees Were the first to hoard their honey in the mountain cavities.
In the ages of antiquity, each summer afternoon, They flew in golden convoys to the mountains of the moon.
And there, in caves by cataracts, where nothing could annoy, Poured gallons in the caverns when Confucius was a boy.
Many mountains bulged with honey stored before the days of Ming, From each crevice dripped the essence of a very precious thing.
Imprisoned in this honey, aging as the aeons wane, Are the souls of all the flowers, waiting to be born again:
Every lotus, every poppy, every tulip, every rose. And those who sip the honey slip beyond all human woes,
Dream again of youth’s digressions, index misty ways of joy, Turn unto the pagan pastimes of Confucius — as a boy.
Doubtless there are yet secreted some divine distilleries Overflowing with the wonder worth a dozen dynasties.
But the mandarin, he made no map, contented in old age To draw the clinging love scenes of the bees on every page.
There he found an inspiration antedating all the Mings, And he got the ancient essence of the very sweetest things.
The most encouraging news of the day is, the sun is shining, and the garden is growing. There is already a little Delicata squash on one of the two plants I started from seed in March.
I hired a man to clean about half of my wall-to-wall carpets. Last night and this morning I pushed and hauled furniture around so that I could thoroughly vacuum all the places beforehand. “Kyle” came this morning and was a very conscientious worker with a good deal of experience, and also lots of information for me about the various fibers he’d be cleaning, and how carpets wear, and how stains are removed. He told me that he usually vacuums himself, and was reluctant to skip that step. He asked if I had a good vacuum…? I do, but I let him do that part everywhere again with his machine, for his peace of mind.
Hall carpet just after installation.
I am so happy to have this job done. I don’t have pets, and all the grandchildren have been trained by their parents to remove their shoes in the house, so my rugs get along without frequent shampooing (this is an understatement which I won’t elaborate on); but I had reasons for deciding that this was the time.
While this thorough maintenance was happening over the course of several hours, I cooked up a pot of split pea soup; I roasted eggplant, toasted walnuts and made a batch of quinoa. The flannel bedsheets went into the washer and were replaced with the summer type, and I checked off several other tasks around the house, some of which have been delayed a couple of weeks, and some for months. It’s uncanny how every time I whittle down my to-do list, a few more things break or come due for maintenance.
Checking off the carpet cleaning, which should have been done years ago, felt really good. But — there was a little problem, which immediately added another task to my list. A solution that Kyle used, on a spot barely visible before, reacted with something I evidently used sometime in the past, and left a bleach mark in the middle of my hall. I usually only use water on spots, because they are most often just garden dirt, and I have no memory what it was I put there. Anyway, I will be contacting someone who can patch it, and I’ll have to take a piece from the back of a closet in order to match it. It will probably look fine, and anyway, people are not taking time to notice the carpet when they are walking down the hall. It will give me the pleasure of checking one more thing off the list — yay!
This Sunday we Orthodox will celebrate Pentecost, and I am getting excited thinking about the day. We decorate with greenery of all kinds; in our temple it’s often whole trees that are brought in for the feast, and in some parishes around the world they cover the floor with grass and wildflowers.
Pentecost in Poland
The thought of decorating the church floor takes me back to my new problem of an ugly spot on my floor. It makes me think about how many times I covered a stain on some garment or bath mat, etc, with embroidered flowers. My mind did immediately go in that direction when I saw the small bleached area in the carpet, wondering (very briefly) if there were a comparable fix that I could accomplish in a homey DIY way. It’s not easy to give up doing those creative things, especially when Chesterton’s words linger in my mind: “Thrift is the really romantic thing; economy is more romantic than extravagance… But the thing is true; economy, properly understood, is the more poetic. Thrift is poetic because it is creative….”
See the golden bee curled up in a ball?
I’m so happy that I can still be creative in the kitchen and garden. That is about all the creativity I have time for anymore! The borage (pictured just above) is blooming and the bees are loving it; they don’t mind having to hang upside down to drink. So many things are blooming, but I will just show you one more, the mock orange. Two bushes were planted on either side of my patio so that their scent would drift across the space where one might sit of a spring evening. Alas, spring evenings aren’t conducive to being outdoors in this neighborhood, neither does this particular mock orange have a strong scent; I have to put my nose right in the flower to detect it. So nothing is lost! And the loveliness of these flowers to the eye is great wealth. Thank you, Lord.
These verses are fun when read aloud, especially if shared with a child.
THE BEES’ SONG
Thousandz of thornz there be On the Rozez where gozez The Zebra of Zee: Sleek, striped, and hairy, The steed of the Fairy Princess of Zee.
Heavy with blossomz be The Rozez that growzez In the thickets of Zee. Where grazez the Zebra, Marked Abracadeeebra, Of the Princess of Zee.
And he nozez that poziez Of the Rozez that grozez So luvez’m and free, With an eye, dark and wary, In search of a Fairy, Whose Rozez he knowzez Were not honeyed for he, But to breathe a sweet incense To solace the Princess Of far-away Zee.
-Walter De La Mare, from the collection for children, Peacock Pie
It’s been a lovely afternoon in the garden, a day warm enough that my body can relax, and allow my mind to focus and Get Things Done. I planted all my zinnia seeds left over from the last couple of years, everything that remained in six packets. Also two types of sunflowers, and nasturtiums.
Three of my favorite plants have popped up very healthy this spring. I especially appreciate these because they volunteer to sprout on their own, and bloom over a long period. They don’t always grow in the same place, but I figure they know what is best, so I’m trying to be accommodating. The thing is, the spots they choose might feel good to them in winter and spring, but be uncomfortable in our rainless summers.
Mounding nasturtiums, “Cup of Sun.”Bees love borage.
Nasturtiums used to grow enthusiastically and unbidden out of a crack in the concrete near our pool pump, but that situation is long gone, and I’m forever trying to find another good place for them. Right now a trailing one grows in a pot, a “mounding” type in a planter box, and one in the ground.
Borage is wonderful, the bees adore it, and it grows best in the planter box where it gets regular water. But then it tries to take over…. Two plants came up this spring where they often do, near the fig tree, and I am hoping that this summer I can give them a squirt more often, and help them to survive. I usually have the hose right there for filling the fountain.
My friend Bella gave me a little feverfew plant a year or two ago, and some leaves freshly cut from the mother plant, with instructions to make a tea with it, to drink and to splash on my face to heal my rosacea. I drank the very bitter tea once; I can’t remember if I did the splashing. That plant loves my garden more than anything, and if I gave it free rein it would take over the whole planter box.
Feverfew
This afternoon I cut it way back, and filled a vase with its daisies, but I left them on the patio because the plant is actually pretty stinky. My fingers are holding on to the bitter taste even after several washings. Feverfew is not one of my favorites, only because of this bitterness — and I do understand that bitter herbs are good for us, but I am content to do without. I don’t know how feverfew might do out of the box in the wider garden; I’ve only ever had it in the one place, where it spreads to become a larger and larger clump. It blooms beautifully over most of the year.
Showy Milkweed in September
The third plant I appreciate is Showy Milkweed, which is native to this area of California. I guess last summer the wind was blowing strongly to the east when its seeds were flying, because for the first time I have lots of little milkweeds coming up in the nearest planter. I haven’t removed all of them. We’ll see how crowded it gets in there, after the zinnias are going strong — but as they haven’t sprouted yet, it’s all theoretical.
At left are some young Narrow-Leaf Milkweeds, whose seeds also sowed themselves last fall, way across the garden from their usual place.
A sweet planting of flowers I saw this week was not in a garden but at Trader Joe’s: For Mother’s Day they were offering lots of different flower items, and when I saw the African violets in mugs I immediately thought of my godmother and got one for her. I got one for myself, too. To all of you who are mothers or were born of mothers, Happy Mother’s Day! ❤
allow my mind to focus and Get Things Done. I planted all my zinnia seeds left over from the last couple of years, everything that remained in six packets. Also two types of sunflowers, and nasturtiums.
for the first time I have lots of little milkweeds coming up in the nearest planter. I haven’t removed all of them. We’ll see how crowded it gets in there, after the zinnias are going strong — but as they haven’t sprouted yet, it’s all theoretical.
Gladsome Lights 