Bees. Rian has seen the square white bee hives from afar, in the California strawberry fields, and in the Wine Country. Never before so close that they were more than landscape passing by.
Yesterday's reception was held on church grounds. The next door 'vicarage' shares a huge expanse of lawn with the church. Dug into the grass amongst hostas and shade trees dripped a perfectly round pond. And piled near the water, three by three, were bee Abodes, providers of the parish honey.
Rian stood and watched the apiaries for a long while. Twas like glotzing tiny crooked tornadoes. The bees funneled in and out, nine thin streams rising to nine individual clouds.
They seemed stationary until Rian grew brave enough to walk amongst them and then the hum of life, the faint brush of Purpose made Rian light headed.

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