Days turned into weeks, bringing warmer weather. Seedlings were transplanted into the main garden. Wildflowers filled the meadow with colour, bringing the constant buzz of honey bees and the fluttering of jewel-winged butterflies.

One fine day in mid May, I found myself with no assigned duties. I took advantage of the opportunity to wander into the meadow and find a place to lie in the warm sun. Momentarily disturbed, the bees and butterflies allowed me room but they quickly returned once I was still. The world became the clarity of blue sky, the perfume of flowers, the calming drone of bees and the bright flash of wings.

I lived in the moment. My mind wandered.

Was I a bee: one worker of many, serving the interests of the collective, with a place that I could call home? Or was I a butterfly: never staying long in one place, taking sustenance wherever it could be found, without a permanent home?

A large swarm of bees overflew me, the sign of a young queen leaving her hive to establish a new colony.