Accepting Autumn: Surrendering to Mother Nature

Honey bee hospice care.

I saw this little guy earlier this week - on a paver, which in and of itself is unusual, of course. Buzzing about, flitting from bloom to bloom is what we like to see.

He seemed almost drunk, stumbling on the ground - but there were no pollen sacks. He seemed to be dragging a leg, or limping. And then he would somehow lose balance and land on his back, legs flailing in the air.

So I thought I should help him out and flip him over with the stem of a fallen leaf. This happened a few times before I even started to record the footage here.  Something seemed off.

And so after the footage, it seemed my aid was just prolonging something inevitable. I righted him, and then walked away to take care of other gardening tasks.

And when I came back a bit later, he was on his back, and still. I scooped him up with the leaf and deposited him into a planter to return to the earth.

Sobering to bear witness to another being letting go of life. There is a solemnity about it, to surrendering to Mother Nature - but a peace. And Autumn is full of those little moments.

[Contrast to the excruciating guilt of carrying out the mandate to kill any spotted lanternflies I might see. My count is up to 7. It still feels awful. And awful to realize that my method for getting the job done has become somewhat routinized. It goes against every instinct I have. All of their little corpses are under a large rock in the planter with the maple trio.😔]

[Edited October 28, 2021.]