Meghan P. Browne: Hi, my name is Meghan P. Browne, and I am the author of The Bees of Notre Dame, illustrated by E. B. Goodale. I am a beekeeper. We raise honeybees on our property in South Austin, and we steal their honey in the spring and summertime to share with our friends.

And when the fire at Notre Dame happened there were news articles, all over, wondering how were the honeybees atop the roof doing, and I couldn't help but be excited to learn the fate of these bees. And I got to Paris and I had the joy of meeting up with Sibyle and Nic who take care of the bees at Notre Dame.

Before the fire the bees were living in hives atop the sacristy, which is not on the part of the cathedral that you're probably most used to seeing in pictures and, fortunately, the sacristy rooftop went largely unscathed during the fire so the beehives were relatively safe up there. Now, after the fire, while the cathedral has been under reconstruction and renovation, the beehives have been moved down to a street-level garden.

When I learned about this story I realized that there are so many ways that we can draw lessons of resiliency and cooperation from nature. And our natural world faces a lot of challenges today. And I think that it would be great if we could all look at the natural world with wondering hearts and wondering eyes, and try and find solutions to some of our greatest challenges by looking into the natural world.

One other thing that I think is important to know about honeybees is that sometimes they can make us a little bit scared. Their buzzing seems to feel threatening sometimes. Even when I'm in the bee yard with my full suit, sometimes a lot of the buzzing can make my heart race a little bit, but I have to remind myself that the bees don't want to hurt us and that they mostly leave us alone if we let them do their job too.

And now I'd like to read from The Bees of Notre Dame. When spring arrives in Paris, people pop up like tulips from underground after working, writing, and resting through short winter days. Dawn breaks earlier each morning. The sun says, "Come, walk in the street to feel my warmth on your face. Smell the buttery croissants. Hear the accordion's song." High above cobblestone streets, Sibyle's bellows bloom, foosh, foosh. "Bonjour monsieur." All winter long the bees rested, waited and warmed each other until one spring morning the sun pushes the chill from the air and says, "Come, stretch your wings wide. Gather pollen in your pockets and nectar in your belly. Make the colony strong with new life."