Quotes About Pollen

He liked to listen to the silence, he said, if silence could be listened to, for he went on, in that silence you could hear wildflower pollen sifting down the bee-fried air, by God, the bee-fried air! Listen! the waterfall of birdsong being those trees!

Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.

Wind snapped at me, warm and fragrant. The atmosphere was thick with pollen and micro-organisms, goading my body's ancient defences.

If they are going to be outside, make sure you wash your pets, because your pets will bring in a ton of pollen and they will roll around in your bed sheets, and now you're rolling around in pollen all night.

Scientists revealed in 2016 that bees find pollen by picking up electrical signals transmitted by flowers, while a British team has lowered extremely high blood pressure by inserting an electrical wire in the brain to change what is being communicated. Understanding electrical communication is vital to understanding our reality (and health) and it is so simple.

I hope my allergies don't act up

The pollen count, now that's a difficult job. Especially if you've got hay fever.

A flower's structure leads a bee toward having pollen adhere to its body . . . we don't know of any such reason why beautiful places attract humans.

Hay fever suffers tend to be above average in intelligence.

I like the beauty of being restored to myself, in the pollen light

The dust of the sunshine was borne along and breathed, steeped in flower and pollen to the music of bees and birds, the stream of the atmosphere became a living thing. It was life to breathe it, for the air itself was life. The strength of the earth went up through the leaves into the wind. Fed thus on the food of the Immortals, the heart opened to the width and depth of the summer—to the broad horizon afar, down to the minutest creature in the grass, up to the highest swallow.

Above the queen excluder—only honey. Below—honey, pollen, and brood.

Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee

We're standing on the deck that's all wooden like the deck of a ship. There's fuzz on it, little bundles. Grandma says it's some kind of pollen from a tree. Which one? I'm staring up at all the differents. Can't help you there, I'm afraid. In Room we knowed what everything was called but in the world there's so much, persons don't even know the names.

Collaboration is the essence of life. The wind, bees and flowers work together, to spread the pollen.

But a male tree produces only small, well-behaved flowers—that is, if your definition of well behaved includes spewing plant sperm into the air for weeks on end.

Ice cores, which are long cylinders scientists extract from glaciers, ice sheets or ice caps, contain gas bubbles, pollen, dust particles, or chemical isotopes that give scientists clues about what Earth's temperature and atmosphere were like when the ice caps first formed.

Somehow, some way, every person in the arts has to find an accommodation with disappointment and embarrassment. They are the pollen in the air we breathe.

Afternoon light like pollen. This is my language, not the one I learned.

Outside, the September air was enticingly fragrant, yellow with pollen and rich, lemony sunlight.

But other creatures of the desert do seem to apprehend what is happening. Through the crosshairs of its huge pupils, a tarantula watches Angie's skin drink in the danger: the pollen from the Joshua mixes with the red blood on her finger. On a fuchsia ledge of limestone, a dozen lizards witness the Leap. They shut their gluey eyes as one, sealing their lucent bodies from contagion, inter-kingdom corruption.

At Madame's suggestion, they lie down in the weeds, and Marie-Laure listens to honeybees mine the flowers and tries to imagine their journeys as Etienne described them: each worker following a rivulet of odor, looking for ultraviolet patterns in the flowers, filling baskets on her hind legs with pollen grains, then navigating, drunk and heavy, all the way home. How

Some apple varieties, such as Jonagold, Stayman, Winesap, and Mutsu, produced sterile pollen, and could never be used as pollenizers. Yet pollen from other varieties could be used to pollinate those pollen-sterile trees. Really, the honey bee did all the work.

Have you ever thought about time? The continuum that connects the dust of the ancients to the pollen that lands on our noses? Have you ever looked and thought...that thing needs a wrinkle in it?