July 2011
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“Someone to whom I recently showed my glass beehive, with it’s movement like the main gear wheel of a clock — Someone who saw the constant agitation of the honeycomb, the mysterious, maddened commotion of the nurse bees over the nests, the teeming bridges and stairways of wax, the invading spirals of the queen, the endlessly varied and repetitive labors of the swarm, the relentless yet...
“Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive,
Half wishing they were dead to...”
– From “Aurora Leigh,” Elizabeth Barrett Browning
