Showy evening primrose (Oenothera speciosa).  A delightful flower, at least by my standards.  Notwithstanding my love for things purple, of course.

Difficult to photograph sometimes.  Why?  This particular plant is quite fond of fresh water; it therefore clings to edifices near sources that can give it what it loves.

I find it along the banks of creeks and tributaries, holding fast to positions at the edge of swamps, and especially where I live, rooted on the shores of lakes (in my case, White Rock Lake).

Daring and agile, it places me in the position of fighting the landscape to get respectable photographs.  But I’m no slouch when it comes to getting down and dirty to take a closer look at something.

I knelt in mud and dirt and wet grass as I crawled along the banks of Dixon Branch trying to appreciate and capture these marvelous beauties.

Then along came a bee.

Covered in pollen, the western honey bee (a.k.a. European honey bee; Apis mellifera) flitted about right in front of me as we both determined how much of a threat the other posed.  To me, it seemed far more dangerous than I would ever be to it, yet I appreciated its weary approach.  Most humans would shoo it away, if not kill it outright.

Not me, though.

My first thought, at least at that specific moment, was “You’re doing it all wrong!  Shouldn’t you hunt for pollen on the other side of the flower?”  I felt that would be the approach most likely to succeed.

Eventually the bee figured out the error of its landing and righted the wrong.

I trundled on hands and knees trying to follow it, trying to capture that perfect moment of bee and pollen and flower.

It surely felt I wrongfully intruded, if not presented a rather selfish invasion of its privacy.  It tolerated me anyway, not flinching when I bumped the flower it occupied.