Since getting my bees, I have taken a number of “pollen” walks—looking for bees on flowers within about a mile radius of my hive (they will fly up to six miles to search out pollen and nectar sources).  Since there are two other hives in this circuit, all the bees I have seen are obviously not mine.

Still, the variety of what the bees are working may indicate that there is some nutritional deficit link to colony collapse disorder among bees with single nectar/pollen sources. If given a choice, they don’t stick to one source, no matter how rich.
Though there are nectar sources on which I will always find a bee—a brave bee even in the chill early morning or the rain in the abnormally rainy spring we had. 

There is the mountain bluet and sage and lavender — and of course, the evergreen huckleberry — and the blackberry.  The bees  serviced the huckleberry to the very last bloom beside the native bees who love these flowers as well. These and flowers like the sage may have been harder for the bees to burrow into — but on the other hand rain also could not wash out the nectar of the downward facing bell shaped huckleberries or the sage with its tunnel to negotiate.  On rainy days pollinating the huckleberry was like working under a little umbrella.

Blackberry stands on an empty lot nearby and a few blocks away and along Amazon Creek are filled with bees—but only after mid day:  it might be the sun brings out the sweetness of the nectar.  But perhaps they are only following the light, since there are bees on every one of the dozens of blackberry stands, no matter how large or slight, that I have stopped to view.  The sun-facing flowers  get large numbers of bees, but the others all have their devotees as well.

I saw the same thing when the butterfly lavender scattered throughout my neighborhood was in bloom.  A large gathering of plants might have a large number of bees, but every single plant I found up to a mile away had at least one bee on it. I can imagine this as part of the ancient pollinator contract in which all flowers were honored with at least some bee visits so that they could come to seed, providing the variety necessary for natural selection.

On June 15, my bees — or honeybees near my house – were gathering nectar and/or pollen from mountain bluet, sage, lavender, blackberry, raspberry, blueberry, ceanothus, Chinese bells, black locust, daisy (that is Willamette Valley daisy near the open meadows by Amazon creek — I have yet to see a bee on a Shasta daisy), clover, clematis, bellflowers, elderberry, pea, and poppy. And I am sure this is only a partial list.

Two weeks earlier, they were gathering from lunara, chestnut, forget-me-not, huckleberry, pyracantha, Scotch broom, hawthorn, bluet, butterfly lavender, cherry laurel, dandelion and clematis.

Now (mid July) the profusion of blackberry is just waning and lavender and other herbs like oregano, thyme, and mint , as well as bachelor buttons  are coming on, calling to the bees.  Besides these, in the past two days (July 19) I have seen the bees working in large numbers on  fennel (see photos) in concert with a half dozen kinds of native bees, as well as germander, borage, African impatiens and vetch.

From some of their sources, they seem to gather only a tad, like seasoning in a complex bouquet.  The clematis visits, for instance, were very spotty and the poppies only a little more frequent, while they loved lunara and bluet and of course, lavender, locust those berries – and now, fennel.

I have watched bees working amidst a profusion of different flowers like those in the school garden at Parker Elementary — but I have never seen a particular bee visit more than one kind.  She will fly over several other plants to visit the mint or borage or African impatiens that is her focus.

Another thing:  I understand that the smell of lavender repels mites , which may be one reason why the bees  so enthusiastically work first the butterfly lavender and then the regular lavender.
Mint and thyme, bearing other anti-mite oils, are coming on soon. A week ago I saw a bee methodically moving  along the tops of lemon balm plants at least two weeks away from blooming, touching each in turn. 

There is a bit of Jewish folklore that states each plant has an angel whispering, “grow."  Perhaps in the case of the lemon balm, that angel is a bee, whispering “bloom." I read research that indicates that the presence of pollinators actually incites more and earlier blooms in certain plants.