There’s a rare type of bumblebee here. Shiny black and very shy.

It never stops moving from flower to flower, and doesn’t like to be photographed.

Here’s the best I could get:

In winter, the foilage will be gone. Only brown sticks will remain, trembling in the frost.

In autumn, flowers fall and the bees fall with them. Small black bodies in the dust of the driveway.

But now, in summer, bees rush busily from flower to flower.

Their buzzing fills my ears and sounds like joy.