Pollinated

Words by Greg
Photos by Greg and Trina

Nearby mountains continue to lure us away from the valley heat. Spring flowers have been swept away and replaced by swaths of summer flowers. We walk or wheel along. But never very fast. Never very far. Distracted by colors and shapes. And plentitude. Each blossom an attraction for bee, bug or butterfly. For us. An act of love. The immobile display of flowers appealing to mobile creatures for assistance. For help to connect type with type. Kind with kind. To spread the ingredients that mix to create next year's flowers.

We flit -- perhaps. From flower to flower. Peer into their workings. Understand little. Appreciate much. Not as helpful as a pollen-covered bee. Nor as hungry as a grazing elk. We wander and drink in scene after scene. Leave little changed when we go. While we are -- perhaps. Changed. Filled. Pollinated.