It all works out for the best

What an action packed weekend!
I went to the Brewster Herring run on Friday, it was totally packed with fish! The shad bush and the beach plum are in bloom, so it's all in synch. Cod cheeks, oyster, quahogs, and Chablis at The Squire was a great start to the weekend. Chatham was crazy busy, like August.

Fish ladder at Stony Brook in Brewster

You know when you say "yes" but you want to say ,"no?" I had that sort of weekend but it turned out fine. The Town of Mashpee had our election, for which I volunteered. It was an early morning, and I saw some lovely people I have done this with in the past, and, voter-people from my town. My warden is someone I have wanted to be friends with for the past couple years but I haven't extended myself. This past election I asked if he was wanted to play this summer and he said "yes!" I look forward to skiffing and gunkholing around Popponesset and learning to tie flies.
Later that same day I went to volunteer at the Woods Hole Film Festival. The movie was, 'The Off Season." A bit of a thriller! I adore WoHo beyond repair and it's always nice to zip down. The weather was beautiful and I kept my top down in the car all weekend.
I checked the bees and they are doing great. Almost ready to put the second deep on. I'll do that before I go to California. I collected some comb for lip balm. Honey lip balm at the farm stand, yo. I filled the feeder buckets in all  but one hive (hive 1 and 4 were not empty). It was nice to hang with the farmer too. We are connected at many different spots, but mostly at the hip.

Kalliope and Farmer Tim

The black locust is blooming, along with lilacs, dogwoods, dandelions, buttercups, autumn olive, and such-like. It's really freaking green, hot and sunny. Yay!
I picked up some asparagus, fingerling potatoes, and flounder for lunch, pan-fried with a lemon, saffron and butter sauce. So good. Between great meals, new friends, happy bees, and awesome Vinyasa Flow, well, life is sweet.
All my love, Kalliope

It's all in the waiting

The bees have been delayed. Tornadoes in the South, it's still really freaking chilly, who knows? May 1st and I wore my light wool coat tonight. Bees are not fond of wool (or leather, perfume, and such-like, for that matter). In any case, the bees are late and hopefully wool will be obsolete soon.

My baby girl back in the day and my sister on the Tokyo River

Have you ever waited with anticipation? It's sort of delicious and slow, and slightly rough on the nerves. It's also giving me some time  to think, which I enjoy. Resultantly, there will be glitter on the hives. The theme is evolving towards disco hives in the meadow. Keepin' it non-toxic, yo.

Years and years and years ago, I waited for the baby to arrive. She was a loooong time in coming and in the interim waiting weeks I planted hundreds of bulbs in pots (it was November on the South Shore). Today I am waiting for my bees. The hundreds of bulbs I planted  this past November are coming up and blooming, blossoming. It's glorious. Tulips, daffa-down-dillies, grape hyacinths, and globe hyacinths. Ferns (I had a fern obsession two years ago) are unfurling. It's all in slo mo. And, the bees will be here May 10th. It's all good. My mind wanders to spring things like ramps, scapes, Chablis, and pokē. The herring are running.

What happens when bees live in your house

 I am installing seven packages of Italian honeybees, 2 at the local 4-h camp and 5 at Cape Cod Organic Farm. Honeypot Hives is physically located there-against the stone wall, west of the perennial garden, near the arched birch. There is a bench for daydreaming, er, hive observation.
Shaka.

All my love, Kalliope

Future tripping

What about next winter? The good news is I am going to paint the deep boxes and move their location. The bad news is none of the hives overwintered. Admittedly, weeping was on the agenda. It's difficult to accept loss, especially when you have put time, money, and energy into sustaining life. This past winter on Cape Cod was the third coldest on record. It snowed a lot and was often in the single digits. Rough on the bees.

One winter, some years ago, I went to London, to take a course with Simon Buxton (the famous British beekeeper/shaman), and learned quite a lot about synchronicity of life.

Bhramari Devi, Indian Goddess of Bees, she lives in your heart chakra

Putting some action to those words! I was reading about the apiary established at UMass/Amherst in the early 20th century. They overwintered bees in a cellar there. This brought me to a doc published in 1918 on Wintering Bees in a Cellar. At the field station where I work, we are lucky enough to have an entomologist and he is a "mole for research." So, he is digging into it.

University of Massachusetts Apiary, around 1918

The farm where I keep my bees does have a root cellar under the calving barn. Keeping the bees there next winter is a consideration...What do you think? Have you tried this method?

All my love,
Kalliope

Ripping out the roots

This past weekend was glorious on Cape Cod. Seriously, it was Paradise Found. I had my Passion Red Volvo convertible cleaned and waxed, put the top down and WENT. There were oysters, top neck, Monomoy steamers, duck and more. It was great fun. And, fun is good.

This weekend I also started clearing the space for Honeypot Hives at Cape Cod Organic Farm. This spring I am moving the hives to a sunnier, more open location. The space is currently covered with old vines, and the ground is tangled with established weeds, brambles, vines, and such-like. Clearing was hard work. Hard work is hard. It’s easy to want to give up and just have fun. Grand plans with no action is no way to live. That is just not my focus for my life.

A life with intention. My teenaged daughter directed me to a fashion-y blog written by an insightful, beautiful young woman. In this particular blog that Olivia pointed me to, the author writes about a life lived with intention. She’s no Deepak Chopra, but not everyone is (thank goodness!), however, her thoughts resonated.

Ripping out the roots is hard, whether it’s the roots of vines or the roots of pain. It’s easy to want to give up and go have fun. Resiliency is underrated. Personally, I’d rather deal with the roots, do some intense yoga, take a bath and move on (in that aforementioned shiny red car!).

That is probably why today is the best day in the world. Driving to work with the top down, listening to great tunes, with some sore muscles and a smile on my face, I know I earned it. I am ready to live a life with intention, not afraid of the work, and ready to enjoy the sweet stuff.

Love,

Kalliope

 

Burning

This weekend I burned. Firing up the burn barrel or getting a big ol’ pile of branches, left-over clippings from last year (my Incrediball hydrangeas become mini-fireballs), and the like, is a welcome harbinger of spring. The smell of smoke on me reminded me of beekeeping and got me excited for my season.

When my daughter and I completed Bee School is the winter of 2006, we had to decide on a hive management plan. When going into a hive, you have several options for controlling the 60k+ bees that are in there. Going in when bees are out foraging reduces the bees by a bit, but you still need to think about protecting yourself and keeping the bees occupied.

My Olivia decided she wanted to spray sugar water on the bees. This method distracts the honeybees from wanting to sting you, as they are so busy licking sugar water off their fur with their proboscis. The other method is smoking them, which Olivia objected to. She objected to this method because the smoke freaks the bees out. They think their house is on fire. They are so busy ingesting honey to protect their stores that they cannot be bothered with you going into their hive. It also sets the hive back. She didn’t like that.

One summer, when we were newbie backyard beekeepers, there was a summer drought. I didn’t know this, for whatever reason. We rarely went into our hive in the summer, and  generally nectar is abundant. Well, we went in with sugar water and the bees flipped out. They were starving and angry and sugar water just didn’t cut it. The bees circled the house for days. Lesson learned. I always smoke my bees.

As a commercial beekeeper smelling like smoke has become common for me. Yesterday evoked the memory of regular hive visits, hot summer days, a swim at the Mill Pond after working the hives with the farmer, maybe clam fritters at Capt’n Frosty's (they open April 18!!!!) and more. At my evening yoga class, (Vinyasa Flow) I could smell the smoke on me from burning during the day. It’s a certain kind of perfume for a beekeeper (we can’t wear perfume…).

Sending you loving smoke fairy bees to soothe your soul with wing kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

Kalliope