I tried to conduct an interview with the bee you can find in the picture to your left, but all I could hear or make out was, “Pollen. Pollen. Pollen. Got to get more pollen.” Over and over that is what I heard. He repeated this as he flew from one blossom to another sometimes landing on blossoms he had already been to. “Pollen! Pollen! Pollen! Where is the pollen?!” He would buzz. I tried to interrupt him to tell him which blossoms where the most profitable, but he wouldn’t listen. He was head strong and distracted. I was the last thing he wanted to pay any attention to. When I got my camera close enough to him to snap his picture, he buzzed over and landed on my lens. “Pollen. Pollen. Pollen. Are you pollen?” He buzzed. “No,” I said. “I am not pollen.” And then he buzzed away and landed on another blossom. I snapped his picture, and went on with my day.

One of the things I will reminisce about no matter where I am, will be the western sky as the sun sets. Some people don’t understand how the sky changes depending on where you are. And you can’t truly comprehend it unless you’ve seen its radiance and glory.

The picture that I have provided was taken by my Father. The picture is pretty, but no picture could paint how beautiful it was when it existed for those short minutes in the New Mexico sky. It looks as if the sky itself caught aflame. Maybe it did. Maybe that is why it looked so beautiful that day.