Bombus impatiens, busily in the moment, pollinating native wildflower Heliopsis helianthoides
It’s late summer in Durham and, until recent days, it’s been quite warm, mostly in the mid- to upper-90s Fahrenheit (mid-30s Celsius). In this video, of blooming wildflowers next to our street on a hot, sunny day in mid-September, I am struck by the bright color and delicate details of the Eastern ox-eyes as they are visited by a bumble bee, while a second bumble bee appears in the background. If you have the sound on, you’ll hear the almost deafening “singing” in the background, the chorus of myriad late summer cicadas singing in nearby trees. Eastern ox-eyes or — Heliopsis helianthoides (hee-lee-OP-sis hee-lee-an-THOY-dees) — are one of many species of wildflowers we planted on the narrow strip of clay soil between our front sidewalk and the street. From early spring until late autumn, an ever-unfolding series of wildflowers, each in its due season, springs forth and blooms. The blooms are miraculous plant reproductive structures — not only serving to preserve the species, but also providing nectar for the pollinators and a bounteous crop of seeds for the many songbirds.
Heliopsis helianthoides is a native of Eastern North America. It was used medicinally by the native Ojibwe Indians, who prepared decoctions from the roots as a topical stimulant. Today, you notice Heliopsis helianthoides naturalizing open areas, along highways, where it grows abundantly due to its tolerance of dry of soil conditions. The genus name Heliopsis literally means “looks like the sun” — the bright yellow petals resembling the rays of the sun. The species name helianthoides literally means “somewhat like, but not, a true sunflower,” in other words, a “false sunflower” — but more often, they’re simply called ox-eyes. Well, do you see the ox eye?
The pollinator that appears in the video is the bumble bee (Bombus impatiens) a native species of Eastern United States. The name Bombus or “bumble” has nothing to do with our verb, “bumbling,” which comes from “the name of the fussy, pompous, stupid beadle in Dickens’ “Oliver Twist.” Rather, the “bumble” of bumble bee is a 14th century alteration (bombeln “to boom, buzz,”) of much older and echoic humble-bee (from the hummmmmm of the bee).
When I witness the unfolding of life each day, the amply sturdy yet supple wildflower’s stem arising from the depths of the earth; the unfurling its iridescent, bright-like-the-sun petals; the hidden nectar, available, free, for the numerous, busy pollinators; and the bumble bees, being bees; being what it is this moment it is to be “me, a bee” — sometimes at these moments I catch a glimpse of something marvelous — wholly ineffable. It’s as if I’m witnessing is too real to deny, and yet too deep to comprehend.
Deep. Sweet nectar hides
Petals open wide… Ox-Eyed —
Being bumbles in.
