Some people see bees and step back… I see them and start talking.

Mrs Bob’s late father was a beekeeper — one of those gentle souls who understood patience, nature, and the quiet hum of life. The kind of man who didn’t just keep bees… he worked with them, respected them.

And maybe that’s why, whenever one hovers near me, I can’t help but smile and say a quiet hello.

Because part of me is convinced it’s him… just checking in.

Checking she’s okay.
Checking I’m looking after her.
Still keeping watch, just in a different way now.

There’s something comforting in that thought — that love doesn’t really leave, it just changes form. Like the rhythm of nature itself… always moving, never gone.

So I’ll keep talking to them.

Just in case 🐝