Title: ’Un-Bee-Lievable’ Flower Facts: Polly Pollinizer reporting from your local garden. By Bronte Brown
Hi, I am Polly Pollinizer, reporting on 'un-bee-lievable' facts all flowers know!
Meet the busiest pollinators around the world. Bees are extraordinarily skilled at foraging flowers. Flowers have a hidden motif that only bees see using X-ray vision. Positively stunning!
Bees vibrate their wings so fast that they buzz and shake pollen all over their tiny bodies. Anyone ticklish?
Lavender flowers create an extra scent, especially for honeybees. Bees get so excited that they beeline it to the hive and waggle dance—just for flowers!
Bees are the busiest unless it rains. Imagine being hit by raindrops twice your size. But wait!
Bees are whiff masters. Bees smell the rain before it falls. Un-bee-lievable!
Which superpower would you choose: super-shaker, X-ray vision, waggle dancer or whiff master? "Me?" "I'd be a waggle dancer!' Polly Pollinizer, reporting live from your local garden. See you next week."
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https://giphy.com/gifs/supersimple-bees-MdM6yOgUWBPQkTm2du Honey Bee Bees GIF by Super Simple
Spring Fling Writing Contest April 1, 2025
6:54:33 Time posted on Spring Fling- Now I can find it again. Thank you to Ciara O’Neal, Kaitlyn Leann Sanchez, prize donors, and readers for the amazing Spring Fling Kidlit Contest!
6 responses to “Un-Bee-Lievable Flower Facts: Polly Pollinizer reporting from your local garden.”
Thank you for the sweet story and lovely invitation to Spring not just with your words but youse beautiful website as well! I feel like I’m out in the gardens breathing in all the fresh air around me!
Adorable! A great way to have an early education science moment in the classroom during the spring time. It sounds like great READ ALOUD picture book an educational video on software or a PBS kids show.
The sky looks down with the dark eye of a new moon; spring buds pop their heads. Winter snaps, not yet. March Moons howl for seasonal winds that breathe change. Terrestrial tides collide, and winter gives way. Sun and moon stand poised.
Worm Moon signals the nightcrawlers to rise and stir the loam, breaking free of the frozen dirt. Spring Moon stirs the sleepy pods to shed winter's coats and stretch their fertile roots. The Sugar Moon coaxes the sweet maples to release their sugary sap.
Permafrost relents. Skywatchers eagerly anticipate the moons of March.
A morrowless day arriving on the equinox perfectly balanced -- Spring arrives.
Sky Treasures With a crescent wink and radiating argent hues, the night sky wakes. Tomorrow sleeps while silver beams thread through the darkness, inviting whimsy to skate on imaginative trails. Dreams dance.
Slow, quick-quick, slow- a small step etched with sandy footprints. Chimerical images skirt golden pathways across a sea of midnight blue. From Ganymede's summit, a breathtaking view is suspended momentarily.
Laced with ice feathers, dreams frolic on through the night sky, searching for sky treasures. Stories lie quiet in star streams as wide-eyed tales fill the mind's eye. Tomorrow wakes.
dreams dance on silvery moonbeams, tomorrow sleeps
@TopTweetTuesday Write about moons in our Solar System without using the word moon.
March 4: Otherworldly
Darkness without night, a time with no view, quiet and contemplative breath, a word is spoken. A ripple of energy swirls and twirls; light breaks a new dawn.
Free and unfettered, the universe releases showers of thunderous speech, oozing liquid sunshine. The tug-a-war begins.
Light bursts forth, raining stars stream around Orion's belt. Sol joins the dance, separating night and day, laying its boundaries.
Solstice's scintillating rays stretch summer's boundaries as nighttide catenates. Midwinter, in a brief magical moment, light concatenates at winter's gate.
Imagining a never-seen ribbon of time- the universe whispers its story.
Psalms 139:12 and Genesis 1:1-3
From Top Tweet Tuesday: Strong start on the WIP. Have a go at surprising similes / metaphors within your descriptiveness, a couple of lesser known words. Dramatic sound patterning! Max out the invention!
Planetary Parade "Line up," Universe calls out, "Earth is watching."
Orange blossoms a delicate scent of lingering love
Planetary Parade "Line up," Universe calls out, "Earthsky is watching."
short version Earthsky watches Universe readies Showtime
titivate- make small enhancing
High Noon Every Wednesday Tornado Sirens #HaikuSaturday
Bordering Mamaw’s cotton field Besides Mamma's fence, now my backyard delight, Daffodils.
Morning stillness Rhythmic movement Zephyr and leaf I wrote this the day I buried my brother. Haiku Genius picked it up today. It is beautiful.
rhythmic rocking, steady breathing while sleeping, life with a newborn
living in the moment of childhood, a father sees the era.
sweet benison, sunlit air and golden rain, in a prismatic wash
spring light sparkles through a prismatic rainbow, a leprechaun's slide
spring sparkles revealing a sky slide leprechauns delight
The morning sun pours over the windowsill, tingling my face. Particles dance in the sunlight. [ A fuzzy image forms of Gramps 😅--standing de rigueur in overalls, wearing fishing cap.
a warblers' echo shimmering in the mist, morning descant
ending with a soft adagio of a mourning dove, coo-Coo-coo, coo-ah
As autumn falls silent under evening's snow, sheltered seeds don winter's coat below. Sleeping silently beneath winter's breath, trees fold into a counterfeit death.
A magical moment when the sun stands still, winter begins with a brisk, cold chill.
Wintry winds whistle ceaseless threnodies, glistens frosty precip amenities. Amidst frigid fields, icicles drip. Cardinals swoop midstream for a sip.
Mice tucked warmly under subnivean snow, moonbeams prance across a snowlit plateau. Betwixt two of astral stars,the moon hangs bright, eerie wolf howls echo through the night.
Playful trickery as spring buds pop their head. Winter snaps, not yet, and tucks them back in bed.
[rhythmic and end rhyme]
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Rhythmic and end rhyme Wintry Threnodies As autumn falls silent under evening's snow, sheltered seeds don winter's coat below. Trees fold into a counterfeit death sleeping silently amidst winter's breath.
A magical moment, the sun stands still- winter begins with a brisk, cold chill.
Wintry winds whistle ceaseless threnodies, glistening frosty precip amenities. Amid a frozen field, icicles drip. Cardinals swoop mid-stream for a sip.
Between two stars, the moon hangs bright, wolf howls echo through the night. Mice tucked warmly under a subnivean snow, moonbeams prance across a snowlit plateau.
February trickery, spring buds pop their head, Winter snaps- not yet, and puts them back to bed.
wintry winds whistling a graceful genuflection, Autumn's last dance-
climactic moment nightide meets at Winter's gate light concatenates
Good morning, Sunshine. Slipping through the morning’s dew, sunlight cracks the dawn. I wake with the woodland world. The nestlings fluff their feathers and squish together, and I listen to their twitter-song. Spring sings. The red-breasted robins engage in antiphonal tweets. Jenny-wren adds her chee-pippety-chee-chee to the mix. The colorful warblers chime in with a descant, their voices echoing in the dewy twilight. I join in, mimicking their cheerful tweets. Spring’s warmth. My goose pimples giggle as I squish tender grass between my toes. A cool zephyr breeze flows, inviting the day to begin. Tiny creatures, swift and dainty, flit from flower to flower. Spring’s warning. A bluejay’s catcall signals a tail-twitching taunt, kitty in the weeds.
Good morning, Sunshine! Taking in the day, no plans. Boketto moments.
For this contest, I rewrote this haibun, Pastoral Cacophony, which was published in Better than Starbucks Journal.
Good morning, Sunshine! Haibun By Bronte Brown Spring sunrise. Slipping through the morning's dew, sunlight cracks the dawn. I wake with the woodland world. The nestlings fluff their feathers and squish together, and I listen to their twitter song. Spring sings. The red-breasted robins engage in antiphonal tweets. Jenny-wren adds her chee-pippety-chee-chee to the mix. The colorful warblers chime in with a descant, their voices echoing in the dewy twilight. I join in, mimicking their cheerful tweets. Spring's warmth. My goose pimples giggle as I squish tender grass between my toes. A cool zephyr breeze flows, inviting the day to begin- tiny creatures, swift and dainty, flit from flower to flower. Good morning, Sunshine! Taking in the day, no plans. Boketto moments. submission to orchardspoetrysubmissions@gmail.com orchardspoetrysubmissions@gmail.com
Nonfiction Narrative of a true navigator-Eleanor Creesy was the first navigator to sail a new supply route around Cape Horn and set a speed record that none could beat/ Excerpt from Navigating Stormy Seas/ (Sing to the Wellerman’s Tune)
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In 1851, the clipper ship Flying Cloud raced from New York to San Francisco in just 89 days, 21 hours.
During the California Gold Rush, fortunes were made or lost in sleek clipper ships. The route often took more than a hundred days. But in 1851, the Flying Cloud carried $50,000 worth of cargo from New York to San Francisco around the tip of South America in record-breaking time under the command of Josiah Perkins Creesy Jr. and his wife and navigator Eleanor Creesy. Two years later, they broke their own record by 13 hours, a record that still stands.
The Daring Navigator of the Flying Cloud: The Eleanor Creesy Story by RL Brown
The Flying Cloud’s a clipper ship, with billowing sails of canvas white, Filled to the brim, we catch the wind weather foul or fair- huh
Heave ho and aweigh we go, bring the sugar and hopes of gold. Heave ho and away we go, We’re bound for Californ-i-O.
Five hundred tons, she's weighted down, yet the race is on to blaze a trail The captain’s eye is bent t’ward speed We sail with’a sailor's prayer. Huh
Heave ho and aweigh we go, Coffee, sugar and tools for goal Heave ho and aweigh we go We’re bound for Californ-i-O.
Two saboteurs tried to sink the ship By drilling holes in the beams below But the first mate heard a handy tip And took those villains down.
Heave ho and aweigh we go, We fight against both wind and men. Heave ho and aweigh we go, we’re bound for Californ-i-O.
The bow dips low as we ‘round Cape Horn’ Her reckonings broke the old sea’s chain. A course so true that none could beat. for hundred years, a matchless feat. Huh!
Heave ho and aweigh we go, sugar, coffee, and tools for gold. Heave ho and aweigh we go, we’re bound for Californ-i-O.
The Clipper Ship Flying Cloud
Josiah Perkins Creesy, Jr. commanded the ship, and, uncommon for the time, his wife Eleanor navigated. As a child in Massachusetts, she had learned navigation skills from her seafaring father.
Credit: The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley
Spring Fling Contest 2022/ revised for another submission
Winter howls at Spring like a middle schooler's biological clock clanks. "It's too early," Winter yawns. "Autumn has arrived in the southern hemisphere," says Spring. "Not yet." Winter flops back, adding another blanket of snow. "The Cold Moon will be full soon," says Spring, offering Winter an enticement. Spring knows Winter loves to hang out with Cold Moon on the longest night of the inverted season. "Okay, I'm up." Winter sits very still, blowing another chilly breeze. "Come along," says Blizzard. Winter stands and stretches. "I see you've been at work. It's a resplendent day in pastel hues," Winter says to Spring. "Thank you, Winter." Winter bows, whispering, "See you next year." Spring smiles, turning to the Sun, "It's time to melt the crusty earth and direct your rays to tickle the fertile dirt." "As you wish," replies Sun.
Zephyr carries the seeds. Loam provides for their needs. Clouds water fertile dirt. Bouquets rise from the Earth.
Entry for 1st Annual Kids Choice Kidlit Writing Contest 2022/ (Max -WC 200) Revised to full story.
All the Henderson children love to read except Rex.
Why Do Letters Move? Read ALoud-Never! by R Bronte Brown
The Eyes of a Dyslexic Child
Why Do Letters Move?
All the Henderson children loved to read except for one.
Rex Henderson hated to read aloud. Unlike his sister, his words slipped, tripped, and skipped over his tongue like jabbering gibberish. Susie loved to read aloud. Her words flowed in seamless syllables of streaming sounds.
Each time he compared himself to her, his heart sank deeper into despair. His sister could read, but he could not.
Rex wished he could slash words off all the pages. Then, there would be no more letters picking at his brain, and the pages would be as silent as a gentle rain.
Flustered, Rex snapped the book shut. “My brain hurts. My eyes won’t work. Why do letters move?” he sputtered. The letters giggle.
”Who’s that?” Rex demanded.
At that moment, a quirky character named Memes emerged from the pages, crawling out with an air of mischief. Memes stood atop the book, dressed like a sailor with a floppy bandanna tied around his head, baggy striped pants, and a cheerful checked shirt that seemed to dance as he moved.
“I’m here to be your first mate,” said Memes. “We letters can be a rowdy bunch, but we need a captain like you to guide us through this story.”
“Me, be captain of these letters? They're never still; they are always hopping about. They are a flip--flopping mess.”
“If you sound out their names, they’ll snap into place,” said Memes as he encouraged Rex to join in.
Together they continued, “… b, d, c, f, g—come on,” Memes cheered. “Speak up, h, i, j—.”
Rex called each consonant by name.
“These vowels are a troublesome bunch, never sounding the same,” Rex complained.
“Yes, they do flow here and there. But consonants like the bossy --r tell vowels how to behave like 'er' in ferret, 'or' in fork, ‘ir' in bird, 'ur' in turn or 'ar' in a pirate’s ‘Aargh.’ With practice, you’ll learn their names,” Memes smiled.
Memes handed Rex a script. “Read it aloud,” said Memes.
“Me!”
“You’re their captain,” Memes reminded Rex
“Laugh, and I’ll toss you off this page,” Rex warned with a half-hearted attempt to muster some bravery.
As Captain Rex began to read aloud, something remarkable happened—the letters snapped into their rightful places on the page. With each sound, they formed a steady rhythm, building a bridge from confusion to clarity.
“Why did the letters move?” he wondered aloud.
Not today, he thought..
Why Do Letters Move? The Eyes of a Dyslexic Child
All the Henderson children loved to read except for one.
Rex Henderson hated to read aloud. Unlike his sister, his words slipped and tripped over his tongue. They sounded like jabbering gibberish. Susie loved to read aloud. Her words flowed in seamless syllables of streaming sounds.
Each time he compared himself to her, his heart sank deeper into despair. His sister could read, but he could not.
Rex wished he could slash words off all the pages. Then, there would be no more letters picking at his brain, and the pages would be as silent as a gentle rain.
Flustered, Rex snapped the book shut. “My brain hurts. My eyes won’t work. Why do letters move?” he sputtered. The letters giggled. Before Rex could slam the book shut, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Out popped a tiny figure.
”Who’s that?” Rex demanded.
At that moment, a quirky character named Memes emerged from the pages, crawling out with an air of mischief. Memes stood atop the book, dressed like a sailor with a floppy bandanna tied around his head, baggy striped pants, and a cheerful checked shirt that seemed to dance as he moved.
“I’m here to be your first mate,” said Memes. “We letters can be a rowdy bunch, but we need a captain like you to guide us through this story.”
“Me, be captain of these letters? They're never still; they are always hopping about. They are a flip--flopping mess.”
“If you sound out their names, they’ll snap into place,” said Memes as he encouraged Rex to join in.
Together they continued, “… b, d, c, f, g—come on,” Memes cheered. “Speak up, h, i, j—.”
Rex called each consonant by name.
“These vowels are a troublesome bunch, never sounding the same,” Rex complained.
“Yes, they do flow here and there. But consonants like the bossy --r tell vowels how to behave like 'er' in ferret, 'or' in fork, ‘ir' in bird, 'ur' in turn or 'ar' in a pirate’s ‘Aargh.’ With practice, you’ll learn their names,” Memes smiled.
Memes handed Rex a script. “Read it aloud,” said Memes.
“Me!”
“You’re their captain,” Memes reminded, tipping his floppy hat.
“Laugh, and I’ll toss you off this page,” Rex warned with a half-hearted attempt to muster some bravery.
As Captain Rex began to read aloud, something remarkable happened—the letters snapped into their rightful places on the page. With each sound, they formed a steady rhythm, building a bridge from confusion to clarity.
“Why did the letters move?” he wondered aloud.
Not today, he thought WC 408
His words slipped – tripped – skipped- over his tongue like jabbering gibberish.
Her words slid in seamless syllables of streaming sounds. #HaikuSaturday, #haiku (excerpt from 'Eyes of a Dyslexic' short story submission by RLBrown
The Eyes of a Dyslexic Child
My brain hurts. My eyes won’t work. I can’t read anymore. Why do letters move? Be still, so I can read you. The letters whisper, don’t give up.
Jumbled Words. Letters flip and flop. Then they jump and hop. Why do letters move? Be still, so I can see you. The letters whisper, say my name.
Grumbled Sounds, And mumbled tones, Never sound the same. WHY do letters move? Be still, so I can hear you. The letters whisper, blend the sounds.
Teacher, Teacher! The letters are moving! Oh, no, that’s in your head. Why do letters move? Be still, YOU! The letters whisper, concentrate.
Taking Test Orally, I’m best. Squiggly scribbly letters Why do letters move? Be still, so I can write you. The letters whisper, yes, you can.
Read aloud! Nervous mistakes, Makes my insides quake. Why do letters move? Be still, don't laugh. The letters shout, keep going.
Every day, my teacher says, “You’re reading better today!” “Why did letters move?” Not anymore!
Wind rustles the leaves.
Trees shimmer yawning deeply,
Anticipation.
Autumn equinox,
the balance of light and dark,
time juncture converts.
Turn your face eastward.
Fall moon on the horizon
blazing golden hues.
Extravagant colors!
A migratory birds last song.
Light wanes for evening.
Nature splendor yields
a harvest of abundance,
Thankfulness expressed.
Inner autumn calls,
time to embrace season’s change.
The wind howls for rest.
Light narrows yet shines.
Truth displayed for all to see,
God’s bountiful grace.
Rapture of the church
The last harvest, winter comes.
Weary souls find rest.
My brain hurts. My eyes won’t work. I can’t read anymore. Why do letters move? Be still, so I can read you. The letters whisper- Don’t give up.
Jumbled Words. Letters flip and flop. Then they jump and hop. Why do letters move? Be still, so I can see you. The letters whisper. Say my name.
Grumbled Sounds, And mumbled tones, Never sounding the same. WHY do letters move? Be still, so I can hear you. The letters whisper- Blend the sounds.
Teacher, Teacher! The letters are moving! Oh, no, that’s in your head. Why do letters move? Be still, YOU! The letters whisper- Concentrate.
Taking Test Orally, I’m best. Squiggly scribble letters Why do letters move? Be still, so I can write you. The letters whisper- Yes, you can.
Read aloud! Nervous mistakes, Makes my insides quake. Why do letters move? Be still, don't laugh. The letters shout. Keep going.
Every day, my teacher says, “You’re reading better today!” “Why did letters move?” Not anymore! I shout, hooray! I’m reading today.
Rex hated to read aloud. Words skipped, tripped and stumbled over his tongue like jabbering gibberish. Flustered, Rex stopped.
Susie loved to read aloud. Her words slid in seamless syllables of streaming sounds. Her correctness rattled Rex.
Susie closed the book. Torrents of confusion ceased; his heart sank in horrible comparison. Susie can read but he cannot.
Rex wished he could slash words off all the pages. Then there would be no more letters picking at his brain. The pages would be as silent as a gentle rain.
Snuggled in a blanket,
thick socks warm my toes.
Hot latte melts my insides.
Fall breeze tickles my nose.
Achoo
Hay bales decorate storefronts
with scarecrows and pumpkins.
Overalls adorn with autumn hues,
there sit two country bumpkins.
Achoo-ACHOO!
It’s a crisp autumn day,
lacking yesterday's heat.
Local parade opens fair season,
Now is time for a delicious treat.
ACHOO - Achoo- ACH...
A visit to the pumpkin patch
on a sunny afternoon,
thick with particulates
no one is immune.
Achoo, Achoo, and ACHOO!
The Harvest Moon engulfs the sky,
with reddish orange glow.
Cinnamon spice perfumes the air.
“Caw ,” cries a very scary crow.
Achoo, ACHOO
Slow down and take the time
to make a pot of savory stew.
Breathe in and enjoy the season
even with a sneeze or two.
Achoo
Autumn Breeze by RL Brown October 2020
Snuggled in a blanket, thick socks warm my toes, a hot latte melts my insides, and a fall breeze tickles my nose. Achoo! Hay bales decorate storefronts with scarecrows and pumpkins, adorn with autumn hues. It’s a typically crisp autumn day, lacking the humidity and heat of yesterday. ACHOO – Achoo. A visit to the pumpkin patch on a sunny afternoon, thick with particulates and allergens visibly floating in the air. Achoo, Achoo, and ACHOO! The Harvest Moon fills the evening sky, the horizon allowing only the yellow, orange, and red hues to filter through – Achoo, ACHOO! The smell of cinnamon and spices and a warm pot of stew remind me of fall and winter coming soon. Achoo! The Harvest Moon disappears for another year as the fall wind blows the dust away and brings winter’s crisp, clean air. Time to slow down, look around, and breathe in this fall season, even with a sneeze or two.
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