fuzzy buzzy

my sister came over for a labor day cookout today. while her husband entertained the folks indoors, we rambled around outdoors.

rambled, that is, until we discovered the bumblebees enjoying their own backyard feast in the flower beds. they were so cute, making their way across the flower heads, *nom nom nom*, but it was the big one that impressed us and halted us in our ramble. he was a massive inch in length, and fat and shiny and fuzzy and very very focussed.



we decided he was so large that he no longer could rightly be called a "bumblebee", that most assuredly he must be a "BOMBLEBEE". our giggling must have irritated the fine fellow, because he lifted off and lumbered through the air to a further flower. the hum of his wings was so deep we decided his first name was "harley".

"harley bomblebee, ma'am, at your service. but just let me finish eating this first."

then i remembered that when i met my former husband back in college, he had sought to impress me by petting bumblebees. could this be attempted? would i have the skill? mr. bomblebee's back was so wide, and so visibly furry, i knew i had to dare it.



success!

but a second attempt seemed to exhaust his patience with us. i had barely brushed his back when, in a sudden pique, he thrashed one black leg up at my finger, "geroff!"

abashed, delighted, and amused, we did, and left him and all his smaller kin to their picnic, while we returned to ours.