Page 91 - Vol. VI #2
P. 91

 The little old lady had a nice garden. Her home was what was left a generatio~n after the last crop des- tined to be shared was harvested.
Ancient wood bees liked to tunnel into wood. They had the teeth, or w~hatever, for it. Each bee was proud of the perfect round entrance and knew his particular tunnel would be the best home for his future offspring.
Christmas was the biggest and best holiday of the year. Presentwise, it made his birthday seem like nothing. To a young boy, time always moved slowly, but as Christmas approached, the boy feared that time was passing so slowly that it might actually stop.
One September day, the boy stretched a cotton clothesline across his room and attached one hun- dred clothespins, one for each day until Christmas. Each day, he would remove one clothespin and reassure himself that someday Christmas would arrive. On Christmas morning, the boy removed the last clothespin and ran in to the living room, to the Christmas tree and the presents.
During a different season and several clotheslines later, the boy pushed his mower through a cloud of dust near the chicken coop. The sweat that pored down his face turned muddy. The mower tore into a tuft of heavy, brown grass that had died from lack of water, its clump of roots half out of the ground.
That Spring, a single bumblebee had built her nest under this clump. This day, under this clump, she lived in what she considered her home. She shared her home with many daughters.
That Spring, Rick ran into~the rural road in front of the boy’s home and died.
(continued on next page)
“If quantum physics hadn’t shown the
philosophical nature of science, I don’t think
I would have seen
the evidence that is everywhere...”

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