Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I’m outside, watering the newly planted lilac, when I hear a slight buzzing sound that immediately turns into a giant, threatening, buzzing sound. I look up and, before me, is a dark cloud of bees, like some kind of dark static in my vision. There are thousands of them rocketing, somewhere, covering the sky, blocking out the sun, scaring the stuffing out of me, with their bee-ing.

For an instant, I realize the vulnerability of this moment. One bee, no problem. Thousands, I’m toast. Fortunately, they buzz past, their destination a rival hive, a new home, or someone else, like me, enjoying the beautiful morning.

That’s Nature for you. One moment, a soft, idyllic pasture. The next, your last moment on Earth. You would think that me, the lilac, and the fresh air would be enough Nature for anyone. Was I taking it for granted? Is that why it’s so dramatic out there? No! I wasn’t.

We’ve been having a lot of rain, lately. Big, fast storms with lightning, thunder, and rain, in really large drops, as if someone up there is wringing every last bit out of the oversized cloud above us. This dry climate has been transformed into something more like Ireland, than Colorado.

We are not taking it for granted; we can’t stop talking about it. If we could eat it up, we would. We sing its praises, plant even more stuff, and during each stretch of sunshine, we are toasting and admiring it.

The more time we have to spend inside, supposedly working, the more we need to be outside. Monitors, keyboards, and wires may be drawing us ever closer to one another, but our need for dirt, wind, and rain is something more elemental than staying in touch with each other and all that essential information.

I’ve been in hailstorms, tornadoes, blizzards, and places so hot my shoes were melting, but I’d wish I hadn’t. I don’t need extreme situations – killer bees or hurricanes – to get my attention or respect, to remind me of the natural world I’m walking around on. I like it here!

I’d rather stroll through gardens or hike in the hills or float around on the waves than be threatened by something so incorrectly labeled as, Mother Nature. That just seems wrong. Mommie Dearest. That’s not how I want to see it.

This is like so many things. I’ll deal with it, when it goes crazy, but I’d rather think of it as beautiful, nurturing, and peaceful. An illusion, perhaps, but those flowers are so sweet, those hills so green, and those bees so lazy, as they drone between the blossoms, going about their business.