I love the light before dusk descends on long summer evenings. Softer, yet more intense than midday, lending everything a deeper glow.
About a week ago, a friend and I were walking down the street. We came upon a small park adjacent to the sidewalk. In the middle of the area was a circle of small, gnarled trees, perfect for climbing practice by children too young to attempt larger trees. I think they might have been some sort of miniature apple trees – the shape seemed right.
I came closer, moving across the grass, noticing how the blossoms created a mushroom cap crowning the circle of trees in a cloud of white. The thousands of blossoms seemed to have just popped that very day and seemed apple-like, too. Sort of like this. The closer I came, the more I could see details, the cloud separating into individual flowers, delicate petals surrounding tiny filigreed stamens.
I stopped just below one of the trees and looked up into the masses and masses of blossoms, the translucent white against a background of intensely blue sky, more vivid from the low light of pre-dusk. And then I saw the bumblebee.
Flying heavily from blossom to blossom, alighting gently on each, the flowers bending under the bumblebee’s weight, then righting themselves again when it moved on. I could smell them – a hint of heady scent, a little sharp, on the verge between pleasant and not. I could hear the faintest buzz from the tiny pollen collector. The world receded and I disappeared into this perfect moment, still and reverent in my heart, committing it to soul memory. Blossoms. Blue sky. Bumblebee.
This is what heaven must be like.
Late note: have linked to the example picture somewhat belatedly. It's been - with humidex - 41 Celcius here today. That's 107.6F. I have had no brain.