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I am the same way. Have you read Range: Why Generalists Triumph in a Specialized World by David Epstein? Since reading that I no longer call myself a dilettante but a generalist!

I need to try to find bee-friendly plants that don't drive my allergies wild because I would love to have more of them around.

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Jandy thanks for that recommendation. I have not read it, but the topic sounds incredibly timely. Much appreciated!

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Feb 15Liked by Danny Anderson

The bees that visit our plants seem to love foxgloves and the thistle that grows near the woods at the edge of our yard.

Great article, Danny. I've always had an appreciation for bees, and I've always wanted to dedicate a little garden to a bee sanctuary. Unfortunately, I'm allergic to most of the plants they love most.

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Sorry to hear about your allergies, Courtney! And thanks so much for the tip about foxgloves. I will most definitely look into that.

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Feb 15·edited Feb 15Liked by Danny Anderson

Danny, I really like this essay and my relating is viscerally personal. Looking at my life, I would often compare it, mercilessly, to the discipline of the engineer, or even the deep-drilling of historians able to bore into some specific era of human history. Such specialization tends to bore me. Paradoxically, as a younger man, I envied the quantitative and chronological focus of these specialists, while admitting to myself that the comparison made me feel inadequate. Later in life when funds were low, I vindicated myself by my DIY auto-mechanic era. A neighbor - an Eastern airline pilot – turned me on to the benefits of DIY-specializaton. “If you work on your car, just drive one model.” He drove VW Rabbit diesels. I opted for VW Bugs, graduating up to Volvo 240s. The benefits were obvious - familiarity minimizes surprises. And the quantitative work off-set my silent fear of technical-inadequacy. Still, it never satisfied in winter. I hate cold. So it went.

The plight, flight and function of bees seems to have attracted new focus of late. Certainly this is old stuff to bee-keepers and probably growers of wild-flowers. But lately I also find myself wanting to allocate portions of my humble yard to colorful bee-attractive tracts. They would be protected from pesticides and toxic fertilizers, and planted in tasteful prominent spots dotting my mowed and manicured Ponderosa. Is this new-found focus on bees evidence of a true collective unconscious? It’s probably just television. PBS I suspect. At any rate I think it’s a good thing. But back to bee brain and tattoos.

I haven’t put myself under the ink either. To me it looks addictive and feels like a fad. I suppose that makes me judgmental, but the decision is purely personal. I don't mind "your" tattoo. It's just that I’ve encountered little in life that moved me to want an image or slogan as a permanent accouterment to my person. Further, I admire bee brain and appreciate it as the ability to sample life as a bountiful buffet, a blessed liberation. Taking your image further – pollinating the many minds encountered in a classroom mandates the natural curiosity of a pollen-collector - rather than a gong-banger, drumming down the familiar thud of theorem, algorithm, equation or ancient battle-plan.

So, yes, beyond math basics I’m adrift on a cold, floating “berg” bouncing on the Stormy Sea of Google. But I can manage construction of a few stairs with a safe banister. Surely I can handle the basic mechanics of semi-ancient automobiles if the weather cooperates. Do I think myself better than the specialists? No. I’ve seen the advantages. Indeed, I’ve used them to drive to work in ancient European sedans and coupes. See, we all have our place, functions, disdains and delights on our seasonal lawn of life. And perhaps the best we can accomplish is to recognize and celebrate our own pleasure as we fly through our seasons, offering respect and homage to the bore-beetle as well as the pollinating bee, serving the hive, the Queen, and our own changing seasons under the Sun.

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That is just beautiful, Jack. I'm not sure why you don't have your own Substack! Your way with words is really something, sir. Thanks so much for sharing.

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Feb 15Liked by Danny Anderson

Back at you Danny. I really enjoy your writing and I envy your students. Great teachers are truly modern unicorns. Throughout grade school (my grade school was atttended by 3400 kids - the largest elementary school on Earth - no hyperbole) high schools (2), undergrad and grad school - I can recall maybe four such creatures. Given your wit, maleable mind, empathic approach to others and your native intellect, my guess is that your students look forward to your class. That, brother, is as good as it gets. I've been laid up of late, and engaging with your work has been a wonderful godsend. I know I have a tendency to Bogart the space when "lit up." But know that you've cultivated some true joy during a few bleak days and I'm so very grateful. Be good to yourself brother.

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Jack, you're too kind. I do hope that you're up and about sooner rather than later!

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Your share made me think of the memoir The Honey Bus ... do you know it?

I never wanted a tattoo myself ... until the day that I did: https://createmefree.substack.com/p/semicolon-a-grief-tattoo-story

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Kathryn, I've not heard of the Honey Bus, but will look into it. Let me just say that your tattoo story was so moving. Thanks so much for bringing it to my attention. Beautiful. I will share that one with some of my students next week, I think. Just perfect.

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Thank you. 💕💕💕

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Feb 15Liked by Danny Anderson

Nectar into honey, Danny. No greater calling.

[Star Jasmine - climber. They’ll love you for it. As will your summer nose!]

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Adrian, I appreciate this. It seems to me that you suggested this plant sometime before to me. I will look into it and see if it's viable where I live! Thanks so much.

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Feb 15Liked by Danny Anderson

What are your favorite bee plants, Danny? Catmint is one of mine: looooooong season of bloom, and late rebloom if sheared after the first bloom fades, and it gets swarmed. Very good for the bee-loud glade.

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Thanks for the tip! I'll look into it. I do have some mints growing in the yard, but not that one. One that works well for us is old-fashioned chamomile, which practically takes over a big part of our yard.

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