I learned that the wattle flower can produce the sweetest honey, and in my eyes it used to be so ordinary.
Nectar of wattles
It can settle anywhere, and it has no shape, it just grows like that, day after day, year after year, budding in the spring, flowering in the summer, deciding leaves in the fall, swaying bare branches in the winter.
The thorns bloomed, densely packed, very small and dense, and the flowers were a faint blue-purple color, like a warm flame, like a shallow puddle of water.
Wattle flowers
When I was a teenager, the road I walked could always shake up layers of dust. There is a large thorn strip next to a dirt road, and when the flowers bloom in the summer, they bloom hot, bright and exciting.
A large number of butterflies, in an uncountable number, is the most common pink and gray butterfly, with occasionally a few colorful ones. They were flying, staying, their wings flashing up and down, their wings opening and closing, and the sea of thorns and flowers turned into tiny waves.
Pink butterflies and wattle flowers
A large swarm of bees flew wildly, undisciplined, but the incessant buzzing of the ears showed that this was a huge operation. They flew from this cluster to that cluster, from this branch to that branch, from this flower to that flower, and the pollen on their feet became more and more, and finally they became a round ball.
I can't forget that scene. The faint blue-purple color made people want to get smaller, wanted to give birth to a pair of wings, wanted to fly in, with the bees and butterflies.
Bees and wattles
Thorns have seeds, but they do not multiply at will, unlike other plants. It grows on the side of the road, it does not annoy people, and it grows on the edge of the crop field, and it will not be easily removed.
There is always a large tuft of thorns growing next to the crops.
In the summer, under a large field of thorns and flowers, sitting a few small children, folded down the soft thorns and woven them into a circle, and carried them on the top of their heads, saying that they could cover the shade, jumping and jumping excitedly. Above their heads, butterflies danced and bees were noisy.
There was a dog lying on the ground, his eyes squinting, and when he heard something, his head jerked up and barked, but the sound was not frightening, and a few thorns fell on it.
In the city, there are almost no thorns.
I did
I went out and wandered around, and I saw the ears and the gray cabbage, but I didn't see it. Later, I really came across such a small cluster, nestled in the roots of a tree. Its branches are very thin, the leaves are very weak, it is autumn, the branch is left with a flower, it has not yet bloomed, an ant crawls on the top, constantly wandering, the ant probably wants to cut open the flower, I look at the ant a few times, I also want to cut the flower.
Civilization is changing rapidly, and even plants are left far behind.
The ant was picking at the flower, and I wanted to cut it open
Close your eyes tightly and think for a long time. The pale blue-purple patch, the butterfly and the bee, seemed to have been like this since time immemorial, as if nothing would ever happen. That faint blue-purple dream, carved its appearance in my heart.