Friday at eight

On one those first summer time mornings when you can smell spring but the air is still crisp, I passed a bumblebee on the cycling path. I swerved and carried on for a couple of meters before I turned my bike around and went back to check on him. What are you doing in the middle of the road? I asked. But the little bee was fast asleep. I scooped him up with my shovel and planted him in the bushes on the sidewalk. Upon release he woke up and fiercely waved his legs in the air. I’d like to label this as a thank-you-and-farewell wave, but it’s more likely to be a shoo-shoo-go-away defense technique. So on my way I went, still with fond memories of the sleeping beauty.






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