|Near the site of the almost bee crash|
I snapped the photo, stood up to make a semi-lazy start, and just then noticed the bee. I usually stop by relying mostly on the front brake, but in this case my weight was not balanced as far back as normal, and the front wheel began to chatter as the rear wheel began to lift. That chattering sound I heard was what it might sound like to smash my face into the bee crossing the sidewalk that I was trying not to hit with my tire.
|The reason the bees were heavily-laden|
|Suddenly, the desert parts of the state all explode in this yellow color, this one next to the Crosscut Canal|
I stayed by the palo verde just long enough to take the photo and listen to the bees' song a moment. I was glad to hear their song, glad to have avoided running one over, and glad to not have smashed my face into it in the attempt. I had my own song to resume: the song of my bike tires on the path, the rhythm of the chain and cogs, the bass backbeat of my heart pumping. I pumped my legs hard the last few miles and felt a surge of energy by imagining the song of the bees.