There’s a lot of focus on pollinators these days so it seemed fitting to portray this one in full living color. It’s always good to see the bees doing their thing. On this visit, the sandpit was buzzing with pollinators of every stripe digging into the wild thistle blossoms with singular, ecstatic focus.
The patterns on dead logs always make me think of ancient civilizations. They strike me as a means of communication, like cave paintings or hieroglyphics. Are these these lines a map for future generations of beetles? Or are they simply a record? A collective “we were here” scrawled by millions of footfalls across a wall of rotting wood.