August Honig has made Frank Fetch Park his garden and his kingdom. He tends every bloom with unhurried devotion — deadheading the dahlias, coaxing the coneflowers, and keeping a close eye on the park's beloved beehive humming away near the wildflower meadow. He'll tell you there's no finer sound than the drone of a hive doing well.

From the first crocuses in March through the last marigolds of October, bees and swallowtail butterflies trail him everywhere he goes. Neighbors say if you sit quietly on a bench near the park's garden beds, you just might see August whispering something to a honeybee. He'll deny it, of course, and offer you a jar of honey instead.