Bees love it.
For some reason, this side of the ocean does not.
And I am also blameworthy. Hating to stand out that much in the Old Neighborhood, I would pick on my patch of May yellow, eliminating at least 25% of the perceived menace.
Now, downtown, I walk past buildings with patches of the unnatural deep green that is the commercial lawn and I see no yellow. Until finally, I notice a little patch, clearly overlooked by the sprayers and pickers.
The bee is happy (or at least busy).
I need go to my neighborhood flower shop to find that springtime yellow again. And it is there.
The proprietor asks me if I would like to relieve her of a batch of lemon tulips that she could never sell because of their incredible swoop. She is always giving me free flowers. She is like that.
Another rejected batch of yellow. She and I admire their beauty and then she wraps them up for me to take home.
