He was on a quiet street where people had put personality into their front gardens. One had an English-style garden with three rose plants, perfectly pruned, behind a picket fence. Another had a miniature orange tree with cute round fruit, and a collection of wind chimes.

He was passing one that was all green, sturdy native plants which were low maintenance and not too thirsty. He thought the owner probably wanted a nice garden with minimal effort.

One was a healthy grevillea shrub with ripe, plump lemon-yellow flowers making the branches heavy. The bees had discovered the fresh pollen and had gathered with eagerness and happiness. He could see three of them writhing within the complicated, tangled centre of a flower.