SUMMER IS BUMBLEBEES, HOLLYHOCKS, FANTASIES

The hollyhocks begin at the bottom of the big healthy stalk and bloom right up to the tiptop bud, never missing a sky-reaching step along the way. The bumblebees bumble right along upward with them. We're friends, the bumblebees and I. Of course I've never sat on one nor tried trapping one in my hand. As I stand amongst the hollyhocks they buzz all around me, up close, and pay me no attention. They may think that I'm some fat aberration of a hollyhock stalk that has no enticing pollen laden protuberances.

One recent day I saw an over anxious bee boring his way into a blossom that hadn't opened. It was still tightly twisted, probably three days away from opening. He really wants to be the first at that table, I thought. Persistence paid off and in due time he had worked himself inside. The hollyhock blossom, evidently wishing to open at its on natural pace, closed behind the bee, neat as any Vensus's flytrap. Fascinated, I watched. The closed blossom began to tremble, wiggle, waggle and sway north, south, east and west.

I thought of the old adage, "It is easier to get into a thing than it is to get out of it." You see, the bee didn't have room to turn around and, attempting to back out would be against the lay of his delicate wings. They'd be caught in the twist of the petals, turned backward and probably torn off if he panicked. And what is more important to a bumblebee than his wings? Although, according to the law of aerodynamics his wings aren't big enough to hold up his fat body for flight.

The bumblebees, bumbling old insects that they are, defy the law, which tickles me a bit. We think we know so much.

I got my magnifying glass to watch the adventure. If the bee was smart enough to defy the mighty law of aerodynamics, surely he could get out of a closed hollyhock blossom.

I noted the blossom was moving as if something was revolving inside it in the same direction the petals were twisted, much as a screw driver drives home a screw. The closed blossom began to slowly expand and soon the tail end of the bee was visible, and then a little bit more and a little bit more. I could soon see the flimsy wings tightly held against his sides, as if glued. Maybe he'd stuck them there with spit and pollen.

Soon he emerged and beat such a hasty retreat I thought of a bullet whirling out of a rifled gun barrel. A flower gun, shooting bumblebees? Ah, if only the Mean Streets had such weapons.

Had I tried to help that bee, which, as a last resort, I would have, I may have made a stinging enemy. Who knows, he may have spread the word in beedom and I would have gotten into something easier than I could get out of.

While the last blossom at the tiptop of the hollyhock stalk is still providing pollen for the bees, down at the bottom of the stalk the first blossoms have formed their little round button-like seed packets. The seeds are placed side by side like carousel picture slides.

It takes the seeds two years if sown, to become blooming hollyhocks and they all come out the same as if cloned. But wouldn't it be crazy-out-of-this-world if two years from now a certain hollyhock blossom would come out with the image of a big fat bumblebee on one of its petals! If a lowly bumblebee can defy the law of aerodynamics, why can't the hollyhock defy the law of genetics?

My sister says I live in a world of my own. Maybe she is right.

Let me repeat my Exasperation Story of Hollyhock Seeds, if it has not already exasperated you to the point of expiration. Two years ago, someone said I could still buy single petaled hollyhock seeds from a certain seed company in up-state New York. He gave me an empty packet that had the price of $1.25 marked of it. So I sent for a similar packet which was called Indian Spring. The name fascinated me. Not having a catalog, I sent what I assumed would be enough for postage. Back came a bill for $5.00 for postage and handling. I have no Indian Spring hollyhocks. But I've got bumblebees and who knows what they might cross pollinate. Some day I may have seeds to sell, named Winged Magic of Summer. Sound fascinating? Just think how rich I may become from postage and handling.

REJOICE!