If you see a sizeable buzzy fly, please don’t swat it; it’s likely a mason bee. With its black body and similar size, it is often confused with its less-than-awesome cousin (as I witnessed this weekend at our friends). Once it landed and went in a hole under their picnic table, my friend whacked the table, trying to free it to swat it with their bug zapper.
After a why should I care comment, I googled and found this. 1)They don’t sting 2)They are 120x better pollinators than other bees 3) Honeybees’ pollination rate is 5%, and Mason bees is 95%.
Today I grieve the loss of my duck, my favorite brown one.
I’ve been stealing glances out the window; I look for her in the day’s shadows. I searched my mind and heart for memories and moments that were so her. It sounds silly, I know; such an attachment to this waggy-tailed, quack-less fowl.
But is my grief less valid? All the thoughts one thinks, what if’s and should haves, and frustration with oneself; it sure doesn’t feel that way.
I didn’t find her body, so if she is dead, I don’t know. And however much I’d like to know for finality’s sake, the hope makes my feelings more manageable.
After my Mom died while showering, I heard her say, “Jack!” Only after responding did I realize it wasn’t real. Still, what a wonderful thing to have experienced, if even for a moment.
My safety razor was delivered today. Did you know it slices and dices from both sides? And that my legs haven’t been this smoothly-shaven in probably twenty years? I love it so much that I’ve imagined future holidays where I gift to friends and family.
A text exchange with Peter has me smiling.
Peter (he’s German): Today we celebrate May Day. It’s big in Cuba – Germany.
Me: My Grandma had us put flowers on people’s doorsteps as kids. Any traditions in Germany?
Peter: Climbing a Maypole to retrieve sausages to impress your girlfriend.
Yum, sausages.
I hope you had a lovely May Day.
Gute Nacht. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 