when bees buzzed in grandma’s garden
Every time I see a bee hovering over my backyard flowers, I’m swept back to my childhood summers in Ohio. My grandmother’s garden was always alive with the gentle hum of bees, and she used to say, “No bees, no berries.” Back then, we never worried about pollinator decline or pesticide bans—nature just took care of itself. Now, I see my grandkids running from bees, afraid, while I try to teach them that these yellow-striped visitors are friends, not foes.
It’s funny how gardening has changed. My neighbors debate whether to let wildflowers grow for the bees or keep their lawns manicured for the HOA. Some say native plants look messy, but I remember when every yard had a patch of clover and dandelions, and nobody complained. Is it better to have a perfect lawn, or a living, buzzing garden?
This spring, after a late frost and heavy rains, I lost half my tomato seedlings. But the bees still came, persistent as ever, reminding me that nature adapts—even when we don’t. I wonder: will our communities choose tidy lawns or buzzing biodiversity? And will our grandkids ever know the joy of chasing bees through sunlit gardens, like we did?
#bees #gardeningmemories #nativeplants #Gardening
