I was sitting outside early this morning with my coffee, my journal, and my phones, both cell and landline. (Phones were in case Spike called or texted. Which he did. And that was nice.)
Morning glory has grown rapidly up its tower, as it always does. Just two blooms though. I keep reminding myself that it's only early August. It will bloom in a few weeks. And yet I don't even see any blooms in process. Where are the flowers?
Then I think about my tomatoes which have been incredibly non-productive this year. They didn't grow more than a foot high, and I got a grand total of 6 marble-size tomatoes from 4 plants. Nothing else is happening. I think they were upset about the loss of the tree. They didn't WANT more sunshine, no matter what the experts say.
Then I think back to our days of living near High Park, in Toronto. Good days. Very good days. We loved living there. In fact, that was our all-time favourite place we had ever lived ... until this place where we live now. We lived on a 3rd-floor walk-up in an old, giant house. There wasn't a balcony, but there was a roof ledge outside a window, with a little decorative wall across it. Just big enough to hold a couple of tomato plants. They grew huge, but not a single tomato did they yield. I finally realized - I should have sent a memo out to the bees that there were tomatoes way up high among the trees, and those tomatoes needed some pollinating.
Which reminded me of that movie - Bees, was it? - where there weren't enough bees to pollinate plants, and everything was dying. And then I remembered my sister saying something about a world shortage of bees for the Punk's lizard to eat. (Oh wait, that's crickets, not bees. Never mind.)
Still. What if there is a tremendous bee blight going on, which is stopping my morning glory from blooming, and my tomatoes from yielding a harvest of any kind? What if we just can't grow food anymore, because the bees are all gone?
I thought about that for awhile, outside in my garden, sipping my coffee this morning.
And then a bee flew directly into my head and got tangled in my hair, while I frantically (but silently) flailed my arms around to get it out, GET IT OUT!
And thus ended my morning meditation.
