The Human Condition - Chapter 3

It's been three days now that I sit on the porch of my parent's home and write these posts for this blog. I spend hours out here, sitting in the shade of the trees that tower overhead, listening to the sounds of the crickets, birds, dogs barking in the distance, and chipmunks; yes, chipmunks can compete in nature's cacophony.

I watch ants cross this wooden desert landscape, I let bees rest upon my toes, and the breeze comes and goes, running its fingers through my hair.

There is a scene I witness everyday. There is a branch that hangs low over the far end of this porch, and it spreads itself wide with branches and leaves. Within those leaves there are two bees that come to it for reasons I do not understand. Everyday these two bees fly from leaf to leaf, but there is one who always leads the other.

When the second bee gets to the first, it lands on it, pulling it off of the leaf, and then the two fall to the ground.

And then they fly back up, and start the whole dance again.

Over and over I hear the almost inaudible *plunk* as they land on the wooden boards below.

Why do they do this?

Is this some sort of mating ritual? Is it a show of force; an alpha situation of sorts? Or maybe they're just playing... do bees play?

Whatever it is, it keeps my attention. I like to think that that first bee is me, and the second bee represents all the things in life that try to pull me off course. Every time I see them fall, I root for the first bee to fly back up and continue what it was doing.

I'm about to get a set of pompoms and write a cheer.

I've never been much of a cheerleader.

But hey, better late than never.

Always, better late, than never.