Out in the Classroom this afternoon (the one under the sycamore shading me from the summer sun, where I look up at the surrounding green hills of the Blue Ridge), I observed something I’ve never seen before.  “That’s a new one,” I said to myself.

A bumblebee, laden with pollen, was resting on the railing of the deck.  As I made her acquaintance, squinting my eyes near her shiny globes, a curious ant rambled up, circling the fuzzbuzzer (as I used to call these furry bees).  I watched as the ant boldly moved in to attempt to pickpocket the larger insect.  Each time the ant touched the pollen sac clinging to the bee’s legs, he was kicked away.  The ant kept circling; the bee kept kicking.

Finally, the ant gave up, the bee flew off, and I was left with a clinging thought:  I wonder how many wonders we could see every day that we’ve never seen before … if we looked more closely, observed more attentively, watched more curiously.

Our Teacher, Nature, always offers a lesson in her Great Classroom.

Then a question or two stung me:  Isn’t it true that pretty much everything we see each day is new, never seen before, by anyone?  Wouldn’t it be good for us to remember this simple circling ant of an idea?