Tales from the Northern Forests
A swarm of bees in May
is worth a load of hay.
A swarm of bees in June
is worth a silver spoon.
A swarm of bees in July
is not worth a fly.
(Old English nursery rhyme)
and the living is easy...
"Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on
a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching
the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time."