July 25: Meditation

Among the flowers

bees and a skipper.

No politics tonight, dear.

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August 22: On the trail

We hiked in to spend the night at Poplar Stream Falls Hut, part of the Maine Huts & Trails network near Sugarloaf Mountain.

On the trail, late August--

goldenrod abuzz with bees,

one red poplar leaf.

July 17: In the milkweed patch

Patch of milkweed--
bees also pause to enjoy
the fragrant beauty.

June 9: Heat

Rich lilac perfume

hangs in hot afternoon air

humming with bees.

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July 30: Hostas

Berries on cereal.
Hosta blossoms hum with bees.
So begins my day.

July 9: Perfume of the leaves

With hours left of sunlight and blue sky after work today, my husband and I walked into town. On the way we passed under a huge tree, its boughs hanging down all around us like an umbrella. We realized when we were under this green umbrella that the tree was flowering, the cloying but sweet perfume filling the air. It stopped us in our tracks. Dozens of bees hummed amid the leaves, tucked up in the fragrant blossoms. 

The leaves and bark of the tree made me think it was some kind of aspen or cottonwood, although I couldn't find it in any of my books. Most native aspens have a long, drooping flower like a tassel, but not our aromatic tree, which abounded with small, subtle, creamy white flowers. If we hadn't smelled them, we probably wouldn't have even noticed that the tree was flowering under its leafy green canopy.

Perfume of the leaves
and hum of bees draws us in--
summer seduction.

Later: After I posted this, a persevering reader sent me several options for what kind of tree this might have been. He got it in three: American Basswood. Thank you, Kirk Betts! Here's a photo from Wikipedia:

American Basswood

I particularly enjoy that it turned out to be a basswood, which is also known as a linden tree here in the United States. The origin of my surname "Lindquist" is "linden," so I've always thought of lindens as a sort of family emblem--even if I can't recognize one when I see it!

May 6: Bee

Ah, my favorite Sunday activity: sitting on my back porch in the afternoon sun, lulled by the constant rush of the river, while I read a book. Caught up in a good mystery, I still find myself distracted by a cacophony of goldfinches chattering in the neighbor's trees and the high-pitched song of the season's first hummingbird zipping around the neighbor's azalea. All this was after I heard my 94-year-old neighbor yelling for help and rushed over to give her a hand so she could get up her front step. She'd been enjoying a glass of wine on her patio alongside the river, and when she got up to go inside, found her joints too stiff to move her legs properly. We all have our ways of enjoying sun after days of rain and chill.

Made lazy by sun,
I let a bee rest awhile
on my open book.