The bumble bees have been flirting with me in succession on my front porch again. I look them straight into their black faces, invisible black eyes. These reconnaisaance missions are becoming predictable. The lead bee enters my intimate space, but does offend, and probably doesn't know that the landing area on my hands has been pre-approved since five or six springs ago. They charge within a foot of me and see I do not flinch, then retreat, which signals the next in queue to do the same, but it's never the same. Ever. I saw one take a hovering shit yesterday. They have faces stained with mustardy Springtime circumstance. They make their way into the house. I quit caring long ago. Wherever they ingress is their business, not mine. Porchwise, the succssion continues with one after another observing me. They know how to look into my face like they might actually like me and bore holes in my deck.
This is an important film, thanks to the hard work of director, Daniel Schmidt. It should appeal to everyone, regardless of your hemisp...
