The Bee

The Knoll Pool at The Ridge is aptly named because the desert community of Minden, NV is visible to the southeast while the green Lake Tahoe basin is visible to the north. At 7800' of elevation, I chose to gently glide through the pool rather than doing laps, taking my time to acclimate to the reduced oxygen.

What summertime and pools have in common at most elevations is the inevitable discovery of a drowning insect. The honeybee was nearing the end of his struggle, legs flailing uselessly as his body bobbed wherever the children's waves sent him. I paused, remembering the two times I was stung, and the fact that I'm allergic to bee stings and did not have my Epipen handy. In less time that it takes to read this sentence, I remembered that nasty yellow jackets had stung me without provocation, which is how I learned of my severe allergy. This honeybee was probably just doing his job when he became stranded by an errant splash of pool water.

I cupped my hands under water to ensure adequate cushion for the bee, and then I lifted my make-shift bowl and set him on the pool deck. Initially, he walked, staggered really, in an erratic path. Perhaps this was the remnant of his frantic attempt at swimming. Then he abruptly stopped walking and stood still on the warm pool deck in the full sun. I stayed in the water, watching him, cautioning approaching barefoot humans to give him a wide berth.

After several motionless minutes warming in the sun, the bee began to "groom" himself, forelegs wiping over his head like a fly, tentative movement of wings, abdomen noticeably flexing. I thought this was good news and hoped a hungry Bluejay did not intend to appear and ruin the moment.

When the bee suddenly lifted off and flew away, I felt a sense of connectedness to creation. What a perfect way to ease into a summer nap.