I meant to post this a while back.
I make a 250 mile drive every month, through Arkansas delta farming country. Rice, corn, soybeans and watermelon line the little back highways, between the tiny towns and the oddly unfenced graveyards.
This was up in watermelon country in August. The fields are huge, with more watermelon than you can imagine eating. The rejects are smashed off to the side of the field for compost. Many of the fields have bee hives on the edge, to help pollinate and to collect honey.
This was, as I said, August. The harvest was winding down and there were many rejects, but few melons in the field. The ones that were left, lay there green and visible, since the vines had all withered. As I was driving, the smell of the fermenting watermelon seeps strongly through my vents, and a low hum became audible.
The watermelons by the side of the road were crawling with bees from the nearby hives. The buzz was loud enough I could hear it over the air conditioning.
When I glanced over, I saw one large bee take off in a ragged flight, clearly tipsy from the watermelon.
I laughed. In fannish days, I had written for Wretched Hive press, a Star Wars fanzine producer.Their logo was a hive with loopy, drunken bees.
And here I was, with drunken bees outside my window. Of course, that would be when my MP3 player gave me "Old Dogs and Children and Watermelon Wine," by Tom T Hall.
Sometimes, life is just too funny not to laugh.
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