The bees cavort from one bloom to the next, savouring their nectar, each one sweeter than the last. Wildflowers in every shape, shade and size poking out from the brambles like brightly coloured landing pads made just for them. There’s too many of them, and too little time to visit them all. But the morning spring sun is still climbing, and hours yet remain. Hours filled with the faint hum of their wings, darting from flower to flower, a springtime painting in motion.