Be Good Neighbors

It's a funny thing, this terrible fear that's been stricken into us about all the bees dying. I understand in a rational way the danger that there is of everything being adversely affected by the loss of bees. The bees are the glue holding together all the flowers, trees and crops, or so I understand. I would hate for all of that to fall  apart, and yet I don't know how sorry I would be, in a purely emotional sense, that the bees would no longer be around.

I grew up with the understanding that I was severely allergic to bees, and the one or two times that I was stung brought forth prodigious swelling and reddening of the skin. It was unpleasant, but the main effect of it was the fear that I felt about them all the time, and this was a crippling, paralyzing fear if a bee came near and, God forbid, alighted somewhere on my person. It was worst if it landed right there on my glasses where it couldn't be closer and yet couldn't be observed either.

I'm glad enough that there seem to be no bees around here where I live. I suppose that North Hollywood, California is none too hospitable where bees are concerned. This is no surprise, because it's often a rather hostile environment to the people, and to anything else. It's just that I was sitting around thinking about bees, and I realized that I couldn't think of the last time I'd seen a beehive, or a hive of any sort. Even back home I don't recall that it was too common. It was more likely camping.

I understand that bee-keeping hobbyists around here are lobbying for permission to keep bees within city limits. It's evidently illegal presently. As ambivalent as I am, I guess I'd like to see them obtain permission. I do have that minor appreciation for bees, so long as they abide by the same conditions that I impose on the rain. I like the rain fine if it makes itself known only when I am safely ensconced indoors. If the bees can live by that, then we'll get along fine here.