Besotted Bee

Every couple of years one of these gold and white irises throws off a random purple stripe on one of its lovely falls. I always intend to isolate the bulb that produces such a wonder, with the intention of duplicating the flower and naming it after myself, but every year the markers fall off and I get distracted by some other miracle. That's what I was looking at and thinking about when I realized this bee was having a great time in the pollen. He was either drunk or exhausted, because he let me get really close. At one point I was certain he was taking a little nap, and then he roused himself and resumed being a very busy bee. When I came back a few minutes later, he was gone. I am so often struck by how fugitive these moments are, and how amazing it is to be a witness. Some days I could wander in the yard all day, staring and staring at little things.