I was torn, this morning, between duty to my heart, and, well, my heart: translation: I needed to actually work out, rather than go for a natural history hike, which, alas, is not exactly an effective cardio routine. So, in deference to keeping my ticker tuned, I went for a long bike ride, camera not in hand. This was fine, if somewhat painful, but later in the day, when I'd temporarily finished cooking for our Passover Seder tomorrow, I went outside for some heart-pumping yard work, and in the course of inspecting the ground for new and continuing wildflowers, I heard something new and familiar: the first buzzing of the fat queen bumblebees in the Lungwort and beyond. These insects are both a pleasure and—hey, I'm an eldest Jewish son who's neither a rabbi nor a doctor—a provocation towards yet more guilt. The pleasure part is that the bumblebees have emerged from winter sleep below ground to start their essential pollination duties; the guilt part is that I still can't identify them to species. Add bumblebees to the to-be-learned list. The furry pollinators have a lot of company.