Follow the bee

Surely, the color and fragrance of the flower had sent out a signal to attract the bees, so each pair of small wings, thin as silk and gentle as the clouds, slowly landed. The beat of the wings gently vibrated beside the small flower, and my soul also flew with the bees.

Scholar K. Von Frisch once studied the “dance” language, also known as the dance of bees. The dance of honeybees is determined to be the way for them to communicate and show their kind the direction to a place with a lot of nectar. This is to say that the dance of bees is a long journey flying with the wind, from the brilliant, graceful flowers to the tiny wild flowers blooming, swaying in the morning sun.

From that dance, countless fragrant pollen grains have fulfilled the messengers of life. From those thin wings, shimmering drops of gold have been carried to every place. On the fields in bloom, the orchards laden with fruit, the golden wax bridges, all are dedicated to a bustling, joyful life.

In the flow of time, bees and flowers are still working together. Without flowers, bees cannot find nectar to sustain their colonies. That is the delicate fulfillment of creation. I was quite surprised to read that when a bee flies out to find nectar, it flaps its wings 880 times in 2 seconds, and when it has collected enough nectar and flies back to the hive, it flaps its wings 600 times in 2 seconds. Thus, just by listening to the sound it makes, it is possible to determine whether the bees are on a journey to find nectar or returning.

I was also very excited when I once experienced the process of pulling out a beehive, my hands heavy with thick honey. The thick golden honey streams after each rotation fell down, sparkling like the red sunset in the distant valley.

Every time like that, I wish I could own a small beehive on the porch, so that every morning when I wake up I can hear the sound of bees flying back, the gentle flapping of their thin wings. Those wings carry the fragrance of the grasslands, of many sweet childhood dreams, of all the sparkles in my heart.

Sometimes I suddenly wake up in the middle of the noisy streets, suddenly remembering a flower season of the past year, remembering the sound of bees working hard in the early morning sunlight. So I always believe that, in a small corner of the garden, the swarm of bees in my memory is still present. There is a little girl from the past who still innocently looks forward to the bees building their nests, waiting for the honey season as if waiting for a great joy. Or has it all become a memory, fading away like a childhood dream?

Now that she has grown up, the little girl from back then also understands that to have good values requires a long, tireless and patient process; from countless flights, countless journeys, countless challenges... Does a bee ever rest, ever stop? Perhaps that is why the poet Che Lan Vien has the saying "a drop of honey requires thousands of bee flights".

Strangely, I always see a perseverance, steadfastness and tirelessness from those distant wings. To get a spoonful of honey, the bee must fly to collect nectar from 4,000 flowers everywhere. Without needing to calculate the ratio of three, we can easily calculate that to get a spoonful of honey, the bee will go through 4,000 moves.

There is no shortest path, no easy flight, because those drops of sweetness are also the result of patience, that difficult challenge. On the small wings, flowers can bear fruit, the season will be bountiful, the drops of sweetness shimmering on the branches, the corners of the garden still shimmer with the season. And nature continues to connect, circulate according to the natural order of the earth and sky.

I remember most recently, I had the opportunity to visit a bee farm. I quietly observed the wooden boxes neatly arranged in the coffee garden. This is where honey, pollen and larvae are stored, and also where the bees live. When I arrived at the garden, there were a group of workers busy extracting honey, so I tried a drop of honey just taken from the hive. The honey soaked into my tongue, and I felt in it the aroma of distant fields, the aftertaste of the migration of three pairs of mountains and hills, the resonance of past flower seasons and the faint silhouette of a tireless journey on thin wings.

I quietly followed the bees, only to find out that their journeys were like trips out to sea, times of breaking through the boundaries of human life. We are like bees, leaving the nest, leaving the safe zone to confidently face risks and negativity, to make the path to the precious things in our lives closer. There are days as peaceful as a calm lake, and there are also stormy days that make us falter, tired and give up. But we still have to practice difficult challenges, because we know that ahead of us are always waiting for us are fields of flowers sowing seeds of happiness.

In the middle of a March day, the wind blew gently through the front yard. The bees still flew in the wind, persistently and devotedly dancing tirelessly. Perhaps, life is like that, keep going, keep committing, keep persevering, then sweet honey will wait for us at the end of the road.

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/theo-canh-ong-bay-post316486.html