Bees live in a phantasmagoric world of shapes and colors and fragrances we can’t fathom. For brief moments, following them buzz around flowers, you can get glimpses of what their world is like. Imagine getting your dinner by sticking your tongue into yellow, orange, and violet tubes big enough to push your whole head inside. Eating off flat plates must seem dull to them.

Grape vines have their own special world. Born as white, fuzzy leaves, they unfold into vast sheets of green. What happens to all that baby fuzz? Is it there to keep them warm? So they don’t taste good? So they don’t burn in the blazing sunlight?

The baby chicks have their mother-centered world. To them, their mothers must be towering, gentle giants. What memories of their mothers do they keep when they grow up? As adults, when they tuck their heads under their feathers to sleep, do they have sweet dreams of sleeping under their mother’s feathers?

By the pond, the Japanese Snowbells (Styrax japonica) are blooming. Every spring I look forward to these trees blooming. On a warm sunny day, when they are in full bloom and you can smell their sweet scent, you can lie underneath them and daydream for hours.