She thinks I am a flower—a bush or shrub, maybe—as I stand among the grasses and the slow-opening perennials in my peasant dress with all the greens and yellows. She thinks I am a flower, so I become one—open up my petals to the sun, go limber and sway in the breeze, let my colors entice. She must know her mistake immediately, yet the honeybee finds something alluring in my faux floweriness and she explores the seam where my skirt begins. I study her diminutive self as she traverses the terrain of my dress—her large, black eyes; the soft, fuzzy hairs on her head and chest; the yellow balls of pollen collected on her hind legs. She is brave and curious as she tiptoes her way across my waistline—there is no food here, but she seems to be enjoying herself, figuring it out. I shift a little on my bare feet and it’s just enough to send her humming, wings delicately buzzing away.
I am standing in the back yard after a long day at work, looking at our tiny patch of green with new eyes. This past week, I attended an outdoor classroom workshop on habitat creation for pollinators called Wildflowers for Wild Pollinators, a joint project between the West Virginia Division of Natural Resources (DNR) and the Toyota Manufacturing plant in our community. My husband will soon ban me from such things because now I not only want to become a beekeeper, but I also want to roll up all the sod in our yard and plant native wildflowers.
I volunteered to help with the registration table as part of the Master Naturalist program I’m in, but I ended up staying all day. I'm so glad I did. The first thing that happened? As we organized the registration materials before the arrival of the attendees, an Eastern Meadowlark sang out clear and strong from a nearby copse of trees. He continued to regale us all morning long, but I only managed to spy him once. As various speakers took the mic, my eyes kept wandering to the trees, the sky, the horizon –hazy from smoke remnants drifting down from Canada. One of the participants sported a T-shirt that said, “Easily distracted by plants,” but I need one that says, “easily distracted by birdsong.”
In the workshop, we learned about:
The social and public health benefits of green space
Why pollinator conservation matters
Programs for habitat creation on private lands
Choosing the right plant mixes for WV's pollinators
Safe & effective use of herbicides & other site preparation methods
Eco-friendly beekeeping
There were in-the-field demonstrations of:
Beekeeping
Site preparation
Habitat creation
Insect identification
Biodiversity monitoring
Plus, we got to hang out with some really smart, really cool people all day.
“Did you read The Well-Gardened Mind?” I asked Audrey Mechtenberg, a biologist for the state DNR, after her talk citing the numerous mental and physical benefits of participating in green spaces.
“I don’t know that one,” she said, smiling. “I read The Nature Fix a while back and it’s actually what got me started on this journey.”
I walked along the curated trail passing through the habitat and felt my heart lighten with each step. A living, breathing example of Audrey’s lecture. Parts of the habitat were in various stages of preparation, and Sheldon Owen, a Wildlife biologist at West Virginia University, explained to us that it takes time and patience to create a pollinator habitat using methods that respect the ecology and provide the most benefit.
I learned from Amanda Young, an Environmental Engineer at Toyota Manufacturing and one of the coordinators of the workshop, that our Toyota plant has the largest industrial pollinator habitat in the state. “Forty acres,” she said.
Jakob Goldner, Conservation Entomologist for the West Virginia DNR, said, “Resilient communities care about where they live, including the plants and animals in their midst.” He talked about habitat loss, flashing a picture of a mountain top removal mine on the screen—something we are achingly familiar with in West Virginia. But then, he did something that really caught my attention. On the screen flashed a pristine, green lawn. “To a bee,” he said, “this might as well be a coal mine.”
Wow.
I did not even know we have a state apiarist. That’s Shanda King, and her enthusiasm is contagious. She made me want some hives. “Beekeeping,” she said, “has a steep learning curve. … You will lose bees. It’s an insect. It’s not a chicken. It’s not a cat. It’s not simple. But it’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
I listened to Amanda’s joint presentation with one of the Toyota apiarists (yes! The Toyota plant has an apiary onsite. Is that not amazing?), sitting under sycamore trees on stools modeled after tree stumps and let my mind wander, resting in the sounds of nature that had been deliberately invited into that space. To my delight, I heard our sweet friend the Yellow Warbler nearby. I listened deeper and there were others: Common Yellowthroat, Cedar Waxwing, Red-winged Blackbird, Indigo Bunting.
Several of the presenters talked about changing what we think is beautiful. I think about this as I stand in my backyard, listening to robinsong. “Not everyone cand do a big project like this one,” one of the presenters said, “But planting a small area of native plants is one thing that just about anyone can do.”
I think on these things as I touch the flower print of my dress where the honeybee felt welcome for a small moment in time. I want to welcome her, always. I’m still thinking about it, but I can do better. I can do better than this.
Because beauty, to me, is a thing with wings.
All photos by Laura unless otherwise noted.
This post may contain affiliate links.
I'm so excited about this journey you're taking!!! I have turned both my front and back lawns into fields of wild flowers. The daisies are just coming this week. They gave me a smile, even as the sky was a blanket of white smoke. I told them, "Keep growing, wild ones. We need you."
To begin a morning with your words is one of the best ways to start the day- thank you for the beautiful way you have with words! Thanks for making my book list longer too🤪