Friday Favorites - Bees are Buzzing

What is your favorite type of flower? Write a description of it from the perspective of a bee.


Dan Christmann wrote:

Useless. Bloody useless. I can’t find the hopping nectar anywhere. I can smell it. It’s everywhere in this place. Jiminy Crickets, I can see far into the ultraviolet spectrum, and it’s clearly there. But every time I dive in to taste the blasted thing, It moves, or I bump against something hot and squishy. Once, a great wind came at me, and then a very large object, like a meteor, and nearly knocked me on my stinger. What’s this flower’s deal? Doesn’t it want to be pollinated? Whatever, man. The smell in this bar is driving me nuts, I’m out!

(It was a wallflower, in case that wasn’t obvious…)

Dana Lee wrote:

Oh sunflower. So high and mighty.
How I love your nectar
So sweet and tasty
You are so high in the sky
But the challenge I do accept
For your nectar is worth
That of a thousand other flowers

Oh sunflower. So high and mighty
Please be mine
We can rule the world
I have conquered you.
Your nectar is as sweet
As I could have ever imagined
You will always be
My favorite flower

Photo complements of: http://www.lucypaintbox.org.uk/Photo-gallery-plants-sunflower.htm

Melody Joy wrote:

My favorite type of flower would have to be the carnation. There are certainly others that are more beautiful and exotic, but carnations are simple and yet complex at the same time which is why I love them so much. Now, from the perspective of a bee....

I approach the flower slowly. There is nothing especially inviting about it, no bright colors, no brilliant lines, no widely spread petals or deeply fragrant pools of delicious nectar. But at the same time, it draws me in. Its petals are bunched tightly together and their ruffled nature provide me plenty of things to hold onto while I peruse through them. It is then that its sweet smell hits me. It is familiar and inviting, and I continue to browse among the well-packed petals to find what I am looking for. I get my fill of the nectar, barely noticing where I have brushed against the pollen, and continue on. As I fly away, I glance backwards once more to take in the simple elegance of the carnation.

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