Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be decorating the giant oak tree in the middle of the neighborhood.
I remember when we planted that tree.
What a fun day!
That's right,
Melody Bee.
And the tree has been growing ever since.
It's huge now.
If it's so big,
How are we going to be able to decorate the whole thing?
With a little help from our friends,
Of course,
Anything is possible.
We've got squirrel friends,
Fairy friends,
And lots of other friends.
Did you say fairy friends?
I've always wanted to meet a fairy.
Yes,
Melody Bee.
Today just might be your lucky day.
Now,
Help me grab this ladder from the garage.
Right behind you,
Mr.
Honeybee.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here,
Splashing through puddles in your rain boots,
Making your way through the rain to our house.
The howling wind threatens to swoop up your umbrella,
So you hold onto it with both hands and arch yourself forward to fight against it with the point of your colorful umbrella.
Just as you get under the cover of our porch,
Thunder claps and lightning strikes.
You look back just as a yellow bolt of light flashes down from the gray-black clouds and sizzles something in its path.
We hear it all the way inside before we hear you and open the door just as a plume of thick gray smoke erupts in the distance.
Come in,
My little Honeybee,
Come in.
The weather is really harsh out there.
I'm so happy you still trek through it to see us.
Harold and I round the corner to the door at the same time as I bundle my cozy housecoat up tighter around my shoulders.
Are you cold,
My little Honeybee?
I can't believe you came out in the rain.
You're the best friend anyone could ever ask for.
Here,
Let me take your wet coat and boots.
I'll hang them to dry.
Melody Bee saved you a front row seat next to the fireplace.
You can warm up there.
Melody Bee is as close to the fire as a bee can be without burning herself,
Holding her tiny black hands up to the dancing flames.
Oh,
Hello,
Little Honeybee.
We know that happens to even the best of us.
Anyways,
Come on down.
I saved you a seat with your favorite pillow and blanket.
You situate yourself on the floor in front of the fireplace,
Close enough to feel the warmth,
But far enough away to relax into the comfort of the fluffiest blankets and pillows.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the air coming in through your nose and the warmth from the fireplace on your skin.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and let yourself sink heavy down into the cozy blankets as Mr.
Honeybee,
Harold,
And I join you in the family room.
Did you see that big explosion when the lightning struck?
I didn't see it,
But I heard it.
It sounded like an electrical zap.
Do you think something was struck by lightning?
Where did you see it,
Mr.
Honeybee?
You know that oak tree we planted?
I think it was up there on that hill with the park.
What's possibly up there that could have been struck by lightning?
While the rest of us are distractedly wondering about the question posed with our hands up to the warmth,
Melody Bee spirals deeper into one specific troubling thought that takes over her whole expression.
Oh no!
What's wrong,
Melody Bee?
Something is most definitely not right.
What is it?
You said lightning struck up on that hilltop where we planted the tree?
The one the squirrels are guarding?
Well,
That's where it looked like it struck.
There was a big plume of smoke,
Too.
What are you thinking?
Maybe it was somewhere else.
I'll check out the front window and see.
Sure enough,
Just as Mr.
Honeybee and I saw it,
The plume of smoke is still billowing out the window.
Melody Bee cannot contain her worry any longer.
We need to check on that tree.
I once saw an oak tree burn to a crisp after lightning got it.
Worried but not sharing her alarm,
We join Melody Bee at the window to see the black smoke floating up into the gray,
Clouded sky.
That's when we hear a familiar sound after a question is posed and enough time has gone by without a suitable answer.
Roger Robot heard the line of questioning and woke himself up from a power cycle nap to fill in the gaps of Melody Bee's concern.
Oak trees are excellent conduits of electricity.
It's as if they're robots,
But they're not.
If they were robots,
They wouldn't explode.
Explode?
Did our oak tree explode?
That's sure is a lot of smoke.
It depends on the lightning strike,
Really,
And the size of the oak tree.
Last time we checked,
It was huge.
It has to be okay.
We have to go check on it.
Let's go.
Okay.
We all layer on our puffiest,
Coziest jackets,
Boots,
Scarves,
And earmuffs before piling out the front door and onto the porch.
Before Mr.
Honeybee shuts it,
We realize we're missing something.
We look back into the house to see that Roger is not following us.
My waterproofing hasn't been properly tested yet under such conditions.
I cannot possibly roll in that rain.
With that,
It's time to get back to work.
It's time to get back to work.
It's time to get back to work.
It's time to get back to work.
I cannot possibly roll in that rain.
With that,
We head out into the rain and wind,
Ready with our umbrellas and all the bravery we can muster.
Harold runs up ahead of us,
Snout first,
Piercing through the wind and rain to alert the oak tree guardians.
A group of squirrels have been tending to and looking out for our neighborhood tree ever since we planted it.
They alerted Harold,
Who alerted us when a wayward band of oak worms took up residence in the tree.
These hungry orange worms love to set up their nests in the biggest,
Strongest oak trees so their babies have plenty to eat.
When the tree was still young,
Squarely in its most important phase of growth,
The guardian squirrels noticed that many of the branches were bare or lined with half-eaten leaves.
That's the surest sign that the oak worms have moved in.
The squirrels pruned the eaten leaves and made a big pile far away from our tree for the worms.
Then they planted them their very own grove of oak trees to munch on.
The squirrel guardians have taken such good care of our honeybee neighborhood tree,
And they haven't stopped yet.
They were sending alerts out to Harold,
Who was trying to alert them of potential danger.
We make our way up the hill,
Stomping wet,
Puddled steps as we go.
Right foot,
Left foot,
Right foot,
Left foot.
Once at the top of the hill,
Reunited with our oak tree,
The rain,
Wind,
And storm suddenly stopped.
We folded our umbrellas just as a faint beam of sunlight peeked through the clouds.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the coolness of the air coming in through your nose,
Filling up your lungs as a community effort of support gathers around you up on this hill.
Then,
Slowly,
Breathe all the way out through your mouth and look all around as squirrels,
Neighbors,
Concerned birds,
And even clouds file in one by one to make sure the heart center of our home is strong.
Look at all these people who care about our tree.
We are so lucky to have this neighborhood and this oak tree.
It looks okay to me.
Can you see any sign of charring?
What could cause such an explosion and the smoke we saw earlier?
I'm not sure.
I don't see anything.
Mr.
Honeybee holds out his hand and walks in a slow circle around the tree,
Lightly touching the surface of the bark to check for possible scars.
Melody Bee follows along behind him,
But higher up,
Checking within the treetop and all the many branches filled with leaves.
It looks like the squirrels have successfully fended off the oakworms,
Too.
The leaves have all grown back,
And the branches look stronger than ever.
A light rain from puffy white clouds blows through overhead,
But the sun shines in intervals wherever it can through the many clouds.
The resulting thunderclap was enough to clear the hilltop of everyone but us,
So we were the only ones there to witness the rainbow that appeared,
Arching over us.
With our hoods up instead of our umbrellas,
We stand beneath the imposing oak tree and let the sprinkling rain fall down on us through the treetop.
In such quiet,
Serene conditions,
Harold can think to himself with much more clarity.
And that's when he gets an idea.
Maybe we're too far away.
He wonders in his own language that we understand.
He takes to the tree to climb.
Mr.
Honey Bee and Melody Bee follow behind him.
You and I stay on the ground to be their eyes,
Ears,
And feet if they should need extra.
We watch them climb,
One by one,
Nearing the top and shaking all the branches on their way up.
As Melody Bee flutters around inside the treetop,
She notices a subtle yellow glow coming through the lines of the bark,
Like a bright shining light that's trapped inside the tree.
Do you see this,
Mr.
Honey Bee?
It looks like the tree is glowing.
Where?
Just over there?
So far,
Yeah.
Look,
Right here.
Mr.
Honey Bee climbs over with Harold to see what Melody Bee is seeing.
And sure enough,
He sees it too.
The tree is glowing.
How weird.
I'd expect to see scarring or charring,
But not glowing.
Look,
There's more over here.
You can see it where the bark is extra dried and flaking off a little.
Mrs.
Honey Bee,
Can you two see it down there?
Together,
We walk up to the tree and brush away a dark layer of bark that's hanging on by a wooden thread.
When we do,
We see what they're seeing above.
The tree glows?
We see it down here too.
The tree is most definitely glowing.
Is there lava in there or something?
Ordinarily,
I'd laugh and say,
Of course not.
But I truly do not know.
Let's just assume it's lava,
For our own safety.
Don't touch it,
Melody Bee.
Oh yeah,
I guess I shouldn't touch lava.
Whoops.
Harold calls out to the guardians,
Who disappeared along with the crown.
We didn't think they were bothered by a little rain,
And sure enough,
They weren't.
The squirrels didn't find shelter from the rain.
They found something else entirely.
From far away,
It looked like a fleet of lightning bugs were buzzing above the squirrels,
Running toward us through the dewy grass.
But as they got closer,
We could see that they weren't lightning bugs at all.
They were fairies,
Carrying the light of the sun.
Without saying a word,
The fairies dutifully draped the humongous oak tree with their lights.
They left as quickly and unimposingly as they arrived.
When they left,
They left with a smile.
When they left,
They left behind something miraculous.
Without any obvious source of electricity,
The oak tree now lit up like a Christmas tree,
Covered in flickering white lights.
Wow,
The tree has its own lights.
That don't need to be plugged in.
How?
Look,
There is a cord,
Right there.
Look,
The power cord does plug in,
Right into the trunk of the tree.
Is this oak tree electric now?
Lightning is electricity,
And Roger Robot did say that oak trees are excellent conduits for electricity.
Then our Honey Bee Neighborhood oak tree must be an even excellenter conduit.
It's its own power source.
Harold jumps down to join us on the ground,
But Melody Bee and Mr.
Honey Bee keep climbing higher to marvel at our miraculous neighborhood oak tree.
Mr.
Honey Bee reaches up to the next branch,
Which is just a little too far away to comfortably grasp.
He jumps up in an effort to catch the next branch.
Focusing more on his climb than on his foundation,
The branch beneath his feet cracks and then snaps clean off before he can reach for the branch above him.
Oh no!
Mr.
Honey Bee,
Watch out!
Mr.
Honey Bee free falls in what seems like slow motion.
Our reflexes slow just as much as time does as we process what is happening and how we can catch him.
When suddenly,
That same branch floats above our heads in mid-air,
Right under Mr.
Honey Bee,
Who falls directly onto it.
My goodness!
How am I floating?
How is this branch floating?
Are we caught on something?
Not that I can see,
My dear.
Are you okay?
Yes,
Yes,
Yes.
I'm totally fine.
Melody Bee buzzes around and around Mr.
Honey Bee on his flying branch.
There's nothing holding him up.
Look!
She swipes both of her hands horizontally above and below Mr.
Honey Bee,
Who is now seated comfortably on his flying branch.
I guess this is how witches feel with their broomsticks.
As if spellbound and triggered by his words,
Mr.
Honey Bee flies through the air on his branch.
Whoa!
Whoa!
Whoa!
He smiles as he gets the hang of flying on a branch and calls out to us to get our own.
Before we can decide if it's okay to snap off a whole branch for fun,
Two fall down to us all on their own.
Melody Bee monitors us closely,
Worried that we have taken to flight too quickly.
We fly through the air,
Soar up to the rainbow,
And fly along that too.
It seems that our Honey Bee neighborhood oak tree was strong and special enough to absorb the electricity of the lightning.
Now it has a permanent glow and electrified branches that give us a whole new perspective on what's possible.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honey Bee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
