Solitary bees are a new discovery for me. Up to a recent point I thought that all bees lived in tower block hives, milling around chaotically but purposefully, so like us humans, buzzing off to work in a rush hour to gather our pollen. The rugged, exposed stones, that make up the north facing wall of our house, are home to the birds and the bees. Tiny birds nest in the larger holes between the stones whilst solitary bees buzz along the surface checking for little fissures that will serve as a summer home. My features were flattened against the soft window pane that separates wakefulness from dormancy when my mind parsed the sound of the bee from the hum of sleep. I listened to the bee as it searched and slowly moved on, getting slowly further and quieter away. So deep and total was the surrounding silence that the sound of the bee was all that could be heard. Passing through the waking window pane brings empirical knowledge, and with its help, I felt glad that the buzzing mobylette had passed out of earshot returning me to silence and the day.
Now that the faux abeille is out of earshot and out of mind, I shall concentrate on asparagus and Noirmoutier new potatoes. However correct it may be considered, I am not going to eat the asparagus simply boiled with hot butter. They are going to be blanched before they find their way into a crisp, golden puff pastry case. Parmesan and a mustardy mixture of cream and eggs will be their companions in the oven. Served with boiled, buttery new potatoes and a glass of white burgundy will be perfect on such a beautiful sunny day.