To do our part for the Help the Honeybees campaign sponsored by Haagen-Dazs, maker of the world's best chocolate ice cream (no, they are not paying me to say that). HD is distributing mass quantities of wildflower seeds that will, we hope, spring to life to provide food, pleasure, and moral support to our honeybee friends and other pollinators.
The Action Steps:
Step one was to don suitable attire. Cecil "Bee" was good enough to acquire antennae and a bee suit, so we could imbue the occasion with the appropriate level of gravitas. Queen Bee Wren was elected to wear the honorary bee suit, which came equipped with a stinger. (Fortunately, she was not called upon to use it.)
Here's Wren double-dipping on the antennae supply in search of extra-sensory perception and then some.
Step two: transfer the wildflower seeds from their cheerful, well-branded seed packages into old (but clean) yogurt containers with which we could readily travel with said seed.Our only disappointment here was the absurd ratio of packaging to seeds.An ecological annoyance, especially given the matter at hand. More seeds per package would have made a lot more sense; with all due respect to their delicious ice cream, someone @ Haagen-Dazs should have noticed the eco-irony here and taken steps to avoid the paper-wastage problem. We were not amused by all the garbage, and wished the paper had at least been less slickly treated and more compostable.
But, it being a beautiful day, and we being women on a mission, we pulled ourselves together and cheerfully prepared to carry out the appointed task of spreading our seed hither, thither, yon and wherever else we could find an appropriately sunny and fertile-looking spot.(We knew not what type of seeds were in the packages, as this info was mysteriously absent from the ample packaging. Let us hope this is not some bizarre plot to lure the trusting and unwitting into propagating bio-engineered corn, jellyfish-enhanced rhubarb, or some other form of hellacious whatnot. The seeds were in fact quite beautiful and diverse—a concert of slate, mustard and sepia shapes and textures.)
Step Three: Cecil B. took wing (and camera, and videocam—and of course, seeds) and we followed her down the road toward points well known.Along the sunny roadside, we promiscuously disbursed our seeds with a wing and a (paganistic) prayer.Then we flew back to the hive!
But not before being spotted in our bee paraphernalia by our neighbors! Fortunately, these are the friendliest and most simpatico of neighbors—Linda (foreground) and her mom—my good friend—Irene. Linda, a former beekeeper herself , did not miss a beat, asking us if we were swarming...Not every neighbor would be so witty and astute.
As we chatted with Linda and Irene, I had a minor fit of ecstasy because I realized we could clearly see ourselves reflected in all our stripy glory in Linda's compound-eye-like sunglasses. Here we are!
It was getting all too intertwingular, so we bid farewell to Irene and Linda, perked up our collective antennea, and headed back to the ranch. We'll keep you updated if anything comes of our casual sowing-bee. All in all, it was a good and happy afternoon—fun to spread a little future-life in the field of dreams.