Plog 12th August 2012

August 12th, 2012 Posted in Uncategorized

My friend, Stephanie Clifton, (www.joydreaming.com) has just posted a thought-provoking picture on FaceBook:

Now Einstein is preoccupying me a bit at the moment.  He seemed to have something to say about everything.  I suppose ideally we should all know something about everything and everything about something; but let us get back to the bee.  This is not a political statement; it is a story I made  up on my feet, on the cliffs in Cornwall, when my niece, Etta, asked me to tell her ‘the story about the butterfly’, and I did not know which butterfly she had been introduced to:

Petal

Petal was a pastel pink butterfly,
who spent the summer sipping pollen
from the blooms of pretty flowers
in the sunshine by the sea.

Her favourite flower was the pale pink pom-pom plant,
which bounced back: boing, boing, boing,
when the wind blew a blizzard.
“Resilient” said Dr Bee, but he was a bit of a big-head.

Petal was humming happily around the herb garden.
She landed on the long leaved leeks,
but they smelt a bit like onion,
so she drifted dreamily towards the honey-scented gorse.

It was a sweet, sugary smell,
like a mixture of pineapple juice
and banana custard.
Petal lapped it up with gratitude.

But maybe Mrs Blackbird also liked the smell,
or maybe she was aiming for butterflies
rather than flowers, because suddenly a
big black beak came straight towards Petal,
pointed like a javelin.

Petal was petrified.
She could hardly move at all at first,
but when she could, her wing jolted very suddenly
and got cut by a spike of gorse.

Petal couldn’t fly properly after that
so she fell down like a dead leaf in the autumn
and landed, plonk, on a big wide fold of the pom-pom plant.

“Hydrangea”, said Dr Bee impressively.
He liked to tell everyone else what they ought to say,
but maybe he was just showing off.
Anyway, right now Petal was in no mood for lectures.
She wanted someone to mend her wing.

“Dear kind Dr Bee,” said Petal
“That’s me” said Dr Bee.  “I be he.”
“Dr Bee, I be hurt” said Petal.
“Badly hurt, and I need some medical attention.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” said Dr Bee.
“You see my wing, doctor?
It got all shredded by the gorse bush
and it’s now in strips and stripes.”

Dr Bee put on his monocle and examined the damage.
He came out with more long words,
which no-one knew the meaning of,
interspersed regularly with “Oh dear, oh dear,”
which didn’t sound very encouraging.

He had to flap back for his brief-case
in search of a needle and thread.
But the needle was missing.
“Oh dear, Oh dear”, said the Doctor.
“I could glue it on with honey but it wouldn’t last for long.”

Petal was a little peevish by then.
“Oh doctor, oh doctor, ” said the patient.
“It’s a pity there’s no needle
because a butterfly needs two wings.
If you really cannot help me
I’ll be the only butterfly who cannot fly
and they’ll call me buttercrawl!”

“Calm down, please do, calm down”
said the Dr Bee so earnestly.
“Because  I cannot buy a needle –
at least not until next fall.
But I’ll warrant you we will make do.
I’m a Doctor Bee on call.”

True to his word he plucked a piece of gorse bush,
sharp as needles, which he threaded.
He hadn’t got a spare wing
but his caring was evident.

“See?  The wing is badly broken and we need new tissue.”
He went to the hydrangea and plucked a new pink piece
“But I’d really love a blue one to balance with the pink.”
“In that case you shall have one.  I have no issue with that.”

Then he threaded the gorse with cotton
and carefully stitched the wing together tight.
Petal couldn’t believe it.  Her peevishness forgotten,
She was air-borne with delight!

And the pale pink and blue pom-pom plant
bowed its bloom in order to bless
Petal’s new shades of pastel
in her camouflaged new dress.

One pink; one blue.  She now knew left and right
Petal drifted in the bliss of the sun
Like a bouquet of mist that’s not too bright
And they all wanted to join her for fun.

Pollen performed attractive pirouettes
Inebriating blackbirds on the wing
And again the midsummer scene was set
For the butterflies to silently sing.

I hope you enjoyed it.

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  1. Starrdusk
    12. August 2012

    Wonderful. I enjoyed it very much

  2. Dixie
    12. July 2013

    “For the butterflies to silently sing.” You knew that would catch me up didn’t you? Lovely story to make up on your feet and out of your heart. I wonder how many pompous bees are really just trying to cover up how very much they do care.

  3. Katrina
    13. July 2013

    Yes. Once the messenger has been shot, it could be hard to redirect the message.

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