On Friday, it was a gorgeous enough day that my kids should have been playing outside while we waited for Kiddo#2 to finish her horseback riding lesson. But Kiddo#3 and Kiddo#4 have gotten into the habit of turning the interior of the minivan into a play-place. They played in the back while I sat up front and knit.
In the middle of the chaos, I looked up and found…a bee. But not really a bee. I couldn’t recognize it at all, because it was gold.
Not yellow. Gold.
I took a beekeeping class. Moreover, I recognize most of the insects we get here in the Swamp because I get to see them so often, but this I’d never seen before, nothing like it. Nothing.
It had the head, thorax and abdomen of a honey bee. It was covered with hairs, though, giving it a bit of a fuzzy look. It glimmered gold.
It had landed on the windshield right in front of me, and I leaned forward to get a better look: that cunning head, the tremendous eyes, the clever mouth parts and articulate legs. It was just so stunningly beautiful, this creation so perfect for everything it needed to do — and like I said, totally gold.
I’ve since googled it up. “Golden bee” leads to a lot of jewelry; a gold wasp is not actually gold. I have no idea what that could have been. Maybe a generic honey bee covered in golden pollen, except that it didn’t have pollen baskets. Maybe it wasn’t a bee at all.
But whatever it was, it gave me sixty seconds to enjoy it from behind the glass of my windshield in the parking lot of a horse farm, and I hope I can see it again.