Last year, I bought a nuc of bees for a wooden hive . Watching them buzz around my flower beds was a sort of zen process that was so relaxing and refreshing. When the heat of summer got to them, they gathered outside the hive and fanned their little wings to cool off (photo below). Then tragedy struck yesterday. Bees from elsewhere descended on my hive and there was a horrible war, which my smaller group of bees lost. At first I put on my beekeeper suit and tried to nudge the attackers away, but they were relentless as they isolated each defending bee and killed him. With the battle won, now the intruders are stealing the stores of honey. I find myself remarkably emotional about this and am wondering how I could possibly hate one group of bees over another. But I do. I am trying to come up with a positive thought: maybe the honey from my bees will help the other hive thrive in the coming January cold. 

There was a thunderstorm with some very gusty winds that blew down a dead branch of a large tree. It was blocking my alley, so I tried to move it. When I turned part of it over, I saw this wonderland of mushrooms. It was a lovely garden unto itself.