Barb Lachenbruch

Audit of my Bee Heart

Young, young, I flew to Oregon grapes for those giggling yellow blossoms, like bells,
that gaily gave their pollen and nectar. I visited one, a patch, many patches, and I
was smitten until the blooms, with their smooth beauty, shriveled away.

A lesson learned, but not taken to heart.

I went after willow and cherry, the first standoffish, the other unfailingly coy. Too
standoffish, too coy.

I found poison oak, madrone, and clover.
Poison oak, always welcomed me at its two houses, the yellow house of pollen and
the red house of nectar, but I heard murmurs that something in those houses was
unkind. Madrone—bells, but not so giggling or smooth or simple as the Oregon
grapes of my early days. These bells were cold and unreciprocating when I buzzed
my compliment. And clover, such a ne’er do well, a pink mop, a scent to draw me
in. I was drawn in. But never taken; clover doesn’t take a bee the way the bells do.

So I moved on. Leathery nectar wells of cascara, pivoting pedicels of vetch—I tell
you, one must be prepared to tumble.

Then raspberry, then thistle, then fireweed whose pollen is inedible and purple
besides, but still, had I learned nothing? The fireweed lured me in. Those
handsome stalks. Magenta walls. Majestic views. I felt royal, just to visit.

The days have shortened. That would happen, I probably knew.
And dew dampens my prospective loves.

I look into my heart.

It’s clover where I’m most at home, not because of what the others did wrong
but because of what the clover did right. It allowed me to land and visit and be me.
It’s clover I seek in the autumn of my life.
Clover, whose head is now white, with its scent more innocent than guileful.
Clover, who holds me up. I feel fine.
So welcomed, I hardly care to leave. I hardly care to leave.
Clover, the scent of my life.

Barb Lachenbruch is a former professor of forest ecology. She lives in Corvallis, Oregon where she is an occasional substitute teacher. She spends part of every week at her cabin where she gets to be an unapologetic botany nerd. She has published creative nonfiction in journals including High Country News, CALYX, and the Gold Man Review and fiction in Flyway. You can find her at barblachenbruch.com .