AT THIS time of year, in our humble garden, I sometimes see a bumblebee stationed on a flower, smack in the middle of a blossom, unmoving. It is very striking, this sight, because bees are usually, so, well, busy. But the bee does not move. Is he exhausted? Is he drunk? Is he drinking the last dregs of nectar and maybe even some dew, which must be delicious at this time of year?

I did a little research. I found out that bees do take naps on flowers, which are warmer than the surrounding air. And at this time of year, the workers are old and dying, the air is cooler, and so they might be sleepier than normal. What a great place to take a nap! Right in the heart of petals, swaying lightly in the breeze.

According to the poet, Fr. John Bannister Tabb, the bee is collecting his due, not the dew.

 The Tax Gatherer

‘And pray, who are you?’
Said the violet blue
To the Bee, with surprise
At his wonderful size,
In her eye-glass of dew.

‘I, madam,’ quoth he,
‘Am a publican Bee,
Collecting the tax
On honey and wax.
Have you nothing for me?’

Fr. John Bannister Tabb

Here is a picture — a poor one — of a sleeping tax collector outside our window.

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