When I was a kid I spent summers and holiday recesses with my beloved Aunt Mary and uncle Joe in their house in the coal country of Southwestern Pennsylvania. I used to catch bees in Mason jars, then, after observing them for a short time, I would set them free. One day I became distracted, and the poor bees died in the jar. Aunt Mary explained that they had gone to sleep for lack of air, and would never awaken again. She gave me an empty match box and had me make a bed in it from fresh dandelion blossoms. She then had me carefully place the bees on the dandelions in the box, and close it. Aunt Mary gave me a small spade, and I dug a hole in the yard. I placed the match box with the bees in the hole, and covered it. Aunt Mary then had me tell the dead bees that I was sorry, and we said a Hail Mary. I can still remember those bees lying there on their bed of dandelions.
When I was a kid I spent summers and holiday recesses with my beloved Aunt Mary and uncle Joe in their house in the coal country of Southwestern Pennsylvania. I used to catch bees in Mason jars, then, after observing them for a short time, I would set them free. One day I became distracted, and the poor bees died in the jar. Aunt Mary explained that they had gone to sleep for lack of air, and would never awaken again. She gave me an empty match box and had me make a bed in it from fresh dandelion blossoms. She then had me carefully place the bees on the dandelions in the box, and close it. Aunt Mary gave me a small spade, and I dug a hole in the yard. I placed the match box with the bees in the hole, and covered it. Aunt Mary then had me tell the dead bees that I was sorry, and we said a Hail Mary. I can still remember those bees lying there on their bed of dandelions.
What a beautiful story, even though it's a sad one. You did a great job writing about it. Thank you for sharing such a poignant moment with me.