10-5-10-wisteria

This isn’t my wisteria, although I wish it did belong to me.  Lovely and fragrant, this dramatic display of blossoms disguises a signpost and some less than attractive cable supports for a telephone pole.  The vine clearly is well-tended and someone prunes it regularly.

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I hope to someday meet the gardener who tends this wisteria so I can offer my compliments in person.  I’ve yet to find anyone at home when I’m passing by, though, so I content myself with gazing from the roadside and an occasional foray across the ditch to brave the bumblebees and take fresh photos.

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Wisteria pollen is like ambrosia for bees.  Dozens buzzed about, moving from one blossom to the next.

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They’re everywhere on this wisteria vine, dozens of pollen-drunk bumblebees crawling around, flying, completely ignoring me because I have nothing they want.

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They barely notice me and my camera.

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I’m not even nervous about hanging out with several dozen busy bumblebees, not with them acting so pollen-drunk and oblivious.

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The butterfly, however, ought to take care.  It is, after all, sipping from the bumblebee’s favorite snack food.  Bumblebees, I suspect, don’t share well.

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