Bee and Orchid • Eli Effinger-Weintraub

Photograph by Leora Effinger-Weintraub

Orchid had to get a package across town, but she was quite stuck here, rooted by her obligations to the challenging work of photosynthesis and transpiration.

Bee buzzed nearby, and Orchid wagged a petal at her. “Sister Bee,” she said, “can you carry this package across town for me?”

Bee settled on a sepal. “I am headed that way; I suppose I could.” She took the package from Orchid’s stamens and flew away. And everyone was happy…for a time.

A few times Bee and her sisters carried messages back and forth for Orchid, but then she put her foot down. “All around, hither and yon, we carry your messages,” she complained. “What do we get for it, besides a hassle?”

“What do you require?” Orchid asked.

“Food,” Bee said. “Something sweet.”

Orchid went to her kitchen and concocted something delicious that Bee and her sisters couldn’t resist. She gave the recipe to her brother and sister orchids, so they could keep the bees contented at every stop on their journey. And everyone was happy…for a time.

But trouble began to brew. Orchid’s concoction was so delicious that other creatures wanted to taste it. But no other creature delivered messages and packages as faithfully as Bee. Bee and Orchid both disliked this change. “You let so many others carry your messages there is very little food left for us,” said Bee.

“I will think of something,” Orchid promised.

Orchid thought of something, but it didn’t work. She thought of something else, and that failed, as well. At last, Orchid arrived at a very good solution, but she needed a promise, too. For it had come to pass that someone had leaked the recipe for her delicious concoction, and now there were many flowers Bee could choose to carry packages for. “Bee,” Orchid said, “I want you and your sisters to carry only my packages.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bee, “but we can’t promise that, for we are too many for your kind alone to feed.” She thought, and then said, “But we can promise that, while you bloom, we will carry only your messages.”

“I accept,” Orchid said. Then she opened her petals and showed Bee the new solution. She had hidden both the food and the package where only Bee could reach them. Larger pollinators could not fit through the passage, and smaller ones would find the door shut in their faces. “There’s nothing wrong with them,” Orchid explained, “but they’re not the messengers for me.”

Bee and Orchid both approved of the new arrangement and benefitted from it greatly. To this day, we still see Bee carrying Orchid’s messages and packages all around, hither and yon. And everyone is happy…for the time.

Eli Effinger-Weintraub practices naturalistic Reclaiming-tradition hearthcraft in the Twin Cities watershed. She plants her beliefs and practices in the Earth and her butt on a bicycle saddle. She writes plays, essays, and short fiction (especially of the steampunk variety) and is attempting to wrestle a novel into submission. Previous works have appeared in Witches & Pagans Magazine, Circle Magazine, and Steampunk Tales, as well as at the Clarion Foundation blog, I’m From Driftwood, and Humanistic Paganism. Eli earns her daily bread as a comma wrangler. She shares her life and art with her wife, visual artist Leora Effinger-Weintraub, and two buffalo disguised as cats. Check out Eli’s corner of the Internet: Back Booth