Not long ago these houses were very active little hubs. But today, You won't find many bees at all.
An old bee warms herself in the sun. She's a few months old, which is pretty old for a leafcutter bee. Her wings are tattered and worn. She stretches them slowly. Perhaps they can carry her to one more day of work.
Most of the others of her generation have died. Other than herself and a few others that hang on, the entire species is now growing in their cells. Eggs for now.
The flowers are mostly gone, their purpose fulfilled. Soon the bee will join them. All the labor, all the industriousness so that the next generation might thrive. Being thankful is most likely beyond a bee's cognition. Perhaps then, we can do it for them.
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