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Re: [beemonitoring] German

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  • German Perilla
    Good afternoon Sam: This is German I I would like to attend to the Native bee Identification Workshop, please sign me in. Regards, German All: Rob Jean and I
    Message 1 of 3 , Oct 23, 2007


      Rob Jean and I will again be hosting a bee identification workshop at USGS Patuxent Wildlife Research Center.  The dates for this Fall's workshop will be December 10-14, 2007.  A flier with all the pertinent information is attached and will be posted to the web site.  Similar to last year there is no charge and it is on a first-come first serve basis.  The emphasis is on learning to identify Eastern North American bees to species. There are currently 8 slots open.

      Email me if you have questions.



      Sam Droege  Sam_Droege@USGS. GOV                      
      w 301-497-5840 h 301-390-7759 fax 301-497-5624
      USGS Patuxent Wildlife Research Center
      BARC-EAST, BLDG 308, RM 124 10300 Balt. Ave., Beltsville, MD  20705
      Http://www.pwrc. usgs.gov

              The Tuft of Flowers

      I went to turn the grass once after one
      Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.

      The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
      Before I came to view the levelled scene.

      I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
      I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.

      But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
      And I must be, as he had been,—alone,

      As all must be,' I said within my heart,
      Whether they work together or apart.'

      But as I said it, swift there passed me by
      On noiseless wing a 'wildered butterfly,

      Seeking with memories grown dim o'er night
      Some resting flower of yesterday's delight.

      And once I marked his flight go round and round,
      As where some flower lay withering on the ground.

      And then he flew as far as eye could see,
      And then on tremulous wing came back to me.

      I thought of questions that have no reply,
      And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;

      But he turned first, and led my eye to look
      At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,

      A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
      Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.

      I left my place to know them by their name,
      Finding them butterfly weed when I came.

      The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
      By leaving them to flourish, not for us,

      Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
      But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.

      The butterfly and I had lit upon,
      Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,

      That made me hear the wakening birds around,
      And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,

      And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
      So that henceforth I worked no more alone;

      But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
      And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;

      And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
      With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.

      Men work together,' I told him from the heart,
      Whether they work together or apart.'

            - Robert Frost
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