Today you find yourself thinking of the last time you had visited your mother's garden before the semester swept you up in its embrace. It was still early in the morning, with the air carrying the faint promise of autumn; there was a cool breeze made all the gentler from the previous night's rain. Fat dewdrops hung from the tips of grass blades like small crystals glittering in the morning light, wetting your feet and ankles.
Your soul was quiet despite the riot of activity around you. Everywhere her garden was bursting with life: the morning glories had turned their heads to the sun and the birds sang their daily aria as they gathered breakfast. The giant sunflowers were like sentries along the garden wall and walking paths and the branches of the apple tree were heavy with fruit. Even the voluptuous squash blossoms stretched open, languid and happy as the bees crawled along their insides.
The bees. You watched them, first in the squash blossoms and then making their way across flat sunflower heads, stuffing their sides full of pollen. For them, there was no time to waste, no time for coffee or conversation. No, they must bathe in the golden dust, gather up each grain for their hive, and fly off in search of more pollen in another flower. There too, as they gathered, they left the seeds of future blossoms behind.
For a long time, you simply watched and marveled at the bees' industry, their undivided focus on gathering, nourishing, pollinating. Now as you think back to that morning while brewing your first cup of tea at the office, you hold that memory close, a delicious reminder of the beauty in industry.
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