In France, just outside the front door of the studio there is an old honeysuckle vine.
There is one small twig hanging over the door which is bare of leaves where, each evening, it is clustered with bees gathering to sleep for the evening. It’s fascinating to watch them jostle for space buzzing and then settle and all is quiet. In the morning, they’re gone.
My theory is that they’re camping for the night as it’s too far to fly back to their hive and the lure of the lavender is too hard to resist.
I will have to research the mystery of the camping bees.