Bumblebee on Clethra

Last year I had a big landscaping job done. They planted a bunch of things, including three clethra tucked into a back corner. I didn’t choose them, and fall slid into winter before I saw a single bloom, so I had no idea what to expect.

Early spring came and they still looked like bundles of twigs. Everything else in the yard woke up first. For a few weeks I wasn’t sure they had survived. I kept checking anyway, almost every day.

Then the small signs showed up. A bud here. A new leaf there. As the green filled in, worry turned into hope, and hope turned into the feeling that they might actually thrive. I got attached. I would walk out and look for what changed since yesterday. Then the flowers arrived.

Tall spires of soft pink and white moved with the wind and carried a clean, sweet smell. The bees went wild for them. Three or four on a single flower was normal. In the evening I would sometimes see tens of them clinging to the blooms like they were asleep in their favorite booth. They were so focused on the nectar that the rest of the world disappeared.

That’s when I took the photo. One bee deep in the work. Wings a little scuffed. Surrounded by all that pink.

When I ran the image through my AI process, it clicked on the first pass. I barely nudged it. The bee kept working. The flowers kept swaying. That corner finally felt alive. The feeling was warmth, not loud but growing, like a chilly day when the clouds slide aside and the sun finds you. Part of it was the runt turning into a headliner. Part of it was the fresh pinks and greens filling a corner that used to be bare. Most of it was the steady energy of the bees. That slow lift washed the worry away and left a clean, quiet satisfaction.