My Sunday morning began with a slow stroll through the park and along the streets with Sir Steve dog. The quiet of the morning was all ours! Both of us contentedly ambled along; my elderly statesman taking his sweet Labrador time to smell every tree trunk and blade of just-the-right-type of grass (and munching on the occasional one too) while I soaked up the early rays of morning sun that cast such a gentle light.
Bees on a blossom.
I heard the industrious hum of these bees, and all their companions, well before I saw them. I too caught wafts of the sweet and slightly vinegary scent of the pale yellow blossoms they were plundering. Such hard work on a Sunday for these little bees.
I guess bees don't have weekends ... I'm very glad I do!