Now that the dust has settled, let me share this poem with y'all, tho I think perhaps some of you already know it. I only typed about half of it, and the rest is just as good, so maybe if this thread's still around when I get back from Rainy Camp Sunday, I'll post the rest.
What's the french for "The more things change, the more they stay the same?
Blessings,
Barbara
Here's [part of] a poem written by E.B. White at least 50 years ago:

Song of the Queen Bee

"The breeding of the bee," says the US Department of Agriculture bulletin on artificial insemination, "has always been handicapped by the fact that the queen mates in the air with whatever drone she encounters."

When the air is wine and the wind is free
And the morning sits on the lovely lea
And sunlight ripples on evey tree,
Then love-in-the-air is the thing for me --
I'm a bee,
I'm a ravishing, rollicking, young queen bee,
That's me.

I wish to state that I think it's great,
Oh, it's simply rare in the upper air,
It's the place to pair
with a bee.
Let old geneticists plot and plan,
They're stuffy people to a man;
Letgossips whisper behind their fan.
(Oh, she does?
Buzz, buzz, buzz!)
My nuptial flight is sheer delight;
I'm a giddy girl who likes to swirl;
To fly and soar
And fly some more,
I'm a bee.
And I wish to state that I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter.

There's a kind of wild and glad elation
In the natural way of insemination'
Who thinks that love is a handicap
Is a fuddydud and a common sap,
For I am a queen and I am a bee,
I'm devil-may-care and I'm fancy-free,
The test tube doesn't appeal to me
Not me,
I'm a bee.
And I'm here to state that I'll always mate
With whatever drone I encounter
.

Let mares and cows, by calculating
Improve themseves with loveless mating,
Let groundlings breed in the modern fashion;
I'll stick to the air and the grand old passionv I may be small and I'm just a bee
Not me,
I'm a bee.
On a day that's fair with a wind that's free,
Any old drone is the lad for me.
But I won't have Science improving on me.