The rock wall suffers a bit from the chipmunks. They borough tunnels throughout our landscaping. Among the ruins, a family of bees has found the perfect place to make their home. My husband thinks the bees are perhaps suffering from nictotine withdrawals, so he throws his cigarettes butts - still smoking - in the entrance of their hive. It has begun to look like a giant ashtray. He wants to extinguish the nest entirely, but he's too scared to get close. He carries an epi-pen and throws his cigarette butts instead.

I warn people to steer clear from the bees. I feel it's their earth too and I would very much prefer to live in harmony with God's creatures. It seems humanity is hell bent on destroying any living thing that encroaches into their personal space and is deemed an annoyance. I will be the first to admit that I have murdered mosquitoes, fly, ticks and fleas. But I feel bad about it - I really do!

I smile as I watch the bees fly in and out of the hive. They are extremely busy and it seems they never stop working. As long as we don't bother them, they pay no mind to us. I stand there and radiate love to the bees, letting them know they're accepted by me. I believe they feel it.