"Hello Bead, it's been a year since we last talked, hasn't it?"
"Almost, about eleven months. Whatcha makin'?"
"Bead, my hearing has deteriorated this past year. Are you asking about citizens of a Caribbean island nation -- lush topography, reef-lined beaches?"
"I mean, what are you doing with your little watercolor block and paintbrush?"
"Doodling your portrait, Bead. Lookee."
"Wow! I've changed a bit."
"You have. Compound eyes are squinting and your colors are muted. Still a fine-looking bee though."
"Aw thanks, Geo., you almost make me feel young again. What's that noise?"
"Figured it was something like that. Why do human women announce dinner as if it was an emergency?"
"Sometimes it is. But what brings on these questions? You seem more reflective now."
"That's because I'm retired, Geo. A human month equals about 10 bee-years, so I'm way past the century mark."
"Well, gosh! What does a retired bee do?"
"Ask Norma to bring her camera over and I'll show you."
[Normavideo --Bee clip, 8-14-15 https://youtu.be/cOy8DCj6QYs ]
"Bead, that's the same thing you always did."
"Yes, but now I gather pollen just for relaxation, like you still garden after doing it for a living."
"I understand. I did that 35 years."
"That's 42,000 bee-years, Geo. Different reward-system now. You get to enjoy sun-dappled shade under trees planted long long ago."
"Silly human, go inside now. Your dinner is waiting. It's an emergency!"