By eight the snapdragons along the bed were practicing indoor manners. Each bud lifted a petal like a napkin, hid a tiny yawn, and only then offered a nod to the first bee of the morning.
We asked at the seed kiosk by the gate. "They used to open all at once," said the woman counting packets. "Now there is a little please in the air. The bees queue. I appear to have sold three extra envelopes of patience, which I did not know I stocked."
The park keeper pinned a note to the watering can. Guests may land on the lower doorstep after the nod, one at a time, and no one is to hurry a neighbor still holding its petal. By tea the whole bed had learned the pause, and a late bee came back for a second, quieter hello.