What makes a holiday for you?

On lazy holiday weekends, apparently my family likes to:

Gather a fourth hive of bees from friends leaving the hobby, at night, using straps to hold the hive together for the drive home.


It's clearly "seat of the pants" beekeeping.


Then we like to celebrate someone's 6th birthday with coffee and breakfast out:




Followed by a really long walk home, necessitating changes of ride:



Then we might eat something from the garden. This is leek, feta, and lemon quiche:


And today, we topped it off by marching in our hometown parade. It's the kind of parade where half the town is in the parade, the other half watching. Fun, and tiring:

We're all a bit tired. Mikey looks like a kitchen rug:


Happy holiday, everyone in this country.

Lush

I feel guilty for resting on the garden's laurels -- only because I know I should be making the next season happen already. Maybe I'll get some done this evening. It's been warm, after an unseasonable rain storm. The garden has reacted with raging growth:



Except for the pitiful peppers, of course. Every year, it seems that there is one plant which does much better than expected. Last year it was bell peppers. Next year, I'm going to plan them much more carefully -- I loved those peppers. Oh well. Guess I'll haunt half-off sales this summer so we have enough to grill, because I'm not going to harvest enough. But some thought-dead Padrons have greened up, so there will at least be a few of those. Yum.

This year, the unexpected performer was leeks:


I planted them partly as a lark. I love leeks, and hate to buy them. But these puppies really did well. Lisa had some issues with hers this year, so I was afraid that mine must have been bolting. This morning, before the heat hit (how the Victorians dealt with this I do not understand), I was nipping through the garden, eyeing the about-to-bolt-or-get-too-big stuff.

Apparently they weren't bolting. Now I have to sell the family on Vichyssoise as a viable dinner, I think.


The strawberries continue to just crank out berries -- we harvested a pound today with no end in sight. I did nip off runners conscientiously. How do you with strawberry patches deal? Do you transfer the plants via runners and rogueing out the originals? How often? Do you do a Lord of the Flies let 'em rip kind of system? Pull them all and replant new plants? So far, no disease or slug issues, and the birds haven't been bad. In fact, Mikey's been the worst pest so far, and we just watch him now.


The grapes are growing crazily. Some day I'm going to learn how to prune them properly. I hope we get enough for jam again this year. We're running low, and the grape was terrific last time. Reminded me of my pb&j childhood!


In addition to "junglelike growth," this year's theme seems to be "volunteering." My produce isn't bagging itself to give to neighbors and the soup kitchen, but extra bits of plants keep popping up. There's the kale on the brick patio, the squash in the compost and near the chicken coop, and tomatoes everywhere. Tomato alley:


Johnny Jump-ups make me smile. After finally getting some from seed last year, I had hopes of babies this year. They did not disappoint. How many years do you think it will be before I finally preserve some in sugar to put on cupcakes?


This is about how high an elephant's eye is, right? Ellie may actually get some ears of corn this year. Wish we'd planted more!


The Italian soup beans are rampaging. I still feel slightly guilty over not liking green beans enough to grow, pick, and prepare them. Dry beans are more my style. But really, they seem like a crazy use of home gardening space. These earned it by being flown across the Atlantic:


One of the kinds (either Fagioli Stregoni or Pavoni) has luscious apricot flowers.



Other flowers include the ubiquitous (though fortunately less-numerous than last year!) sunflowers, just opening up:


And a few sweet peas. Those fence beds are going to have to be dedicated lettuce beds, I believe. The things there are so far behind for lack of sunlight that it's perfect for a slow-bolt planting of lettuce. Remembering that is key, of course.


Speaking of bolting, I indentured two kids today to prepare and freeze about ten pounds of kale. It's got to get done or the chickens will get it all:


Finally, I assume that either from the planted plants or those multiple volunteers, there will be tomatoes. . . some day.


Sorry about the "everything but the kitchen sink" approach. I'm not blogging regularly and oh how I miss the good camera, but when I do get things photographed, might as well cover as much as possible. Busy times, as you all know.

Two Bee or . . .

Heat wave has us going to water this week -- a second day at the municipal pool. My niece recovered after being splashed and spent some quality time with her cousins. I can just imagine: "Someday, you, too, will eat salame."


On the way home I got a call -- did I want a swarm? Thanks, Esperanza!

I did, very much, but we had to unload all of the swimmers who were awake, leaving crashed-out Mr. Salame asleep. I gathered my swarm equipment, including a lovely cardboard box, and headed to find them.


Some judicious clipping and shaking moments later, the bulk of the swarm -- really, nearly all -- were boxed up and wrapped in a favorite sheet I inherited from my grandmother. I actually think of her every time I use it. Wrapped swarms always look like presents.


Looks like no one's here. . .


But they are. So I poured them onto the waiting hive box.


One branch came along for the ride.



Nearly all of the bees poured out from the box now.


They spread like buzzing molasses. I even took a video but can't figure out how to get it to upload. Just imagine noise and movement and it will be just like it!


Always a few left in the box.


One good tap and there's a small blob still to go.



I slid the cover nearly closed. As it got later in the day, I figured they'd move inside the hive.


After spinning with my friends at the library, I came back to an empty box


And, presumably, a full hive. The hanger-outers might have concerned me but it is really warm.


Even the established hive has some outdoor activity at 8pm.


Esperanza said she's got another hive I can have if I want to do a cut out. Since three was my likely target (with four as a crazy possibility) it seems as though I'm finally going to have a bee season this year. The cool spring must really have delayed swarm season, as we're easily four months past normal time. Never dull.

Busy Summer

We're busier than usual right now. That seems to be a hazard of summer. Three days a week, Tor is working on riding:



Both his instructor and Coda are very patient, and he's happiest out there. We have big hopes - see those heels? Now if we could only chase down footwear and breeches I'd rest easy.


In the garden, we're starting to see the effects of a recent heat wave. Things are springing along, and I cooked my first planting of fall seeds. Should have just put them under lights downstairs.


These were all taken with a telephoto lens, so I had trouble getting a good overview. The back kale/lettuce/carrot bed features some bolting chard. We're eating kale all the time (I had a large handful in my smoothie for lunch today - mmmmmm) although I anticipate this planting of Lacinato following the chard into BoltLand soon, I'm really enjoying it.

Before the heat hit, the lettuce was just beautiful. I had already started giving heads away, and last night had an entire salad of bronze romaine.


Unfortunately, there seems to be some kind of blight on the tomatoes. I'm still thinking that there's something wrong with the Target-bought Romas, but currently I'm tearing off the diseased branches to see what happens. We also sprayed soap to see if getting the aphids off helps the tomatoes cheer up. The other varieties seem happier. Plus, there are volunteers everywhere. I let two Cherokee Purples go in the Seascape strawberry bed, just to see what's what, so there should at least be some this summer.


The Anna apple is gracious under its load. Today I disturbed a branch and ate the one that fell. It wasn't ripe, exactly, but it was edible. I'm greatly looking forward to these beauties.

Overview of the right hand side. I'm tickled about the Italian beans on the right side. We'll have soup! In front of the beans in the long vertical bed are the possibly-too-many-plants of squash. Why do nurserymen insist on planting multiple seeds and not thinning? Why don't I notice before transplanting? Peas in the pea bed are almost ready to gather for seed, and then I have to figure out what to put there. Behind the peas are the Tristar strawberries. They taste better, to me, than the Seascape, but they're still unhappier. Smaller plants, smaller berries. We'll see what amendment will do later, although it might be a climate thing. Seascape is supposed to do well here, with the implication that others might not, I suppose.

The front bed is sparsely planted, mostly flowers. We caught the rain perfectly for some seeds and missed the window for others. Again, maybe I'll troll the garden centers for sales once this week's heat breaks.


Left side. From back to front, empty bed, lettuce/kale, Ellie's corn and maybe more corn (must buy seeds. . .) bed, then the Seascape berries, the leeks and garlic and kohlrabi that I just pulled today along with half a dozen garlic heads, and the peppers. Each week as warmer weather has come along, I'm seeing more sprouts on overwintered Padron. Hopefully there will be much good eating. This winter, I think I'm going to try to root some cuttings and overwinter them under lights instead of outside. Much easier!


The lavender out front is doing pretty well, too. I wish I had more gals to enjoy it, but the other day I was out early enough to catch one bee working in lambent light:


Just realized I left a pump running. Ack.

Bee happy

I finally got my ducks in a row and spent some time over the past few days inspecting hives. On Thursday, I went to the hive at a friend's house in order to see if they were ready for a super. This is a hive which, two or three years ago, was in a top-bar hive. Then I cut out the comb and rubber-banded it into frames for a Langstroth hive.

But. . . then nothing. Last year (?) I found only drones in the hive, so shook everyone out and either requeened or put a swarm in or something. I know, I should really go back to see what I did. But anyhow, we've never gotten more than the odd bit of honey from the hive.

For Thursday's visit, I even brought a full super's worth of drawn frames, reasoning that if they were ready, they could get right on to filling those frames rather than working to make wax. This friend has been so gracious about hosting the hive that I figured she really deserved a good year.

When I cracked the lid, I saw something to cheer the heart of a beekeeper: it was almost fully covered with busy bees. Unfortunately, I had also closed up the hive last fall with only nine frames in it, so right against the wall of the hive there was a perfect frame-sized comb of capped honey. It took my hive tool and a cookie sheet to get that out.

A quick inspection revealed open and capped brood, so I put on a queen excluder and the super. I'll go back and check in a couple of weeks.

And today, at home, Ellie and I suited up to check that swarm I'd hived about three weeks ago. It was still just the two deep boxes, so I cracked the top one off and we started going through the bottom.

Odd, I thought, it's mostly honey. Well, honey and pollen and unevaporated nectar. A tiny bit of brood, but every single one of those were drones. For a bit, I entertained the thought that I had somehow managed to get a queenless bunch, but they seemed awfully calm and pleasant for that to be the case.

It was nice to have Ellie with me, because I told her what we were seeing and sort of talked her through it. We set up the lid of the hive as a stand of sorts for the top box, and began to go through that. First frame, honey. Next frame, some drone and some honey. Frames 3-8? Solid, solid, perfect, textbook worker brood. Boy, oh boy was it pretty.

I practically jumped up and down, and Ellie was pleased and oh so helpful. She ran to get another deep box because I figured I'd give them another place to put brood going up rather than rotating the boxes. I still don't know if that was the right decision. At any rate, I figured I'd concentrate on big hive rather than big honey for now.

But wait. . . who was that I spied between the frames of that brood-heavy box, wandering around on the upturned lid? It was the queen! (Sorry, no pictures. We were busy and the only lens I have functioning is a super telephoto -- good for sports, bad for gardening.)

Back Ellie had to scurry to get the queen marking pen and the tube. She was so resourceful and quick that I didn't even worry about the queen, just carefully lifted the box up and set it on the bottom box, then coaxed the queen into the tube.

It was, alas, a new paint pen, so while Ellie kept the bee down in the tube, I shook and jabbed the pen against the fence until the paint flowed, but not so badly it would overwhelm her. Just a few quick dabs and she had a nice white dot on her back. Without planning, it turns out to be the "right" color for the year.

When the paint was dry and the new box rested on the getting-very-tall-now hive, I tipped her out onto it. She looked confused -- I wonder if she was thinking something along the lines of "where'd everybody go?" and then as if on cue, up popped a worker and like a tiny Border Collie, chivvied the queen back down into the hive.

Although I was thoroughly wet through from sweat afterwards (talk about beekeeper's glow), it was a great feeling to have a happy hive. I just wish I'd had more of them.

Just a quick walk

I went out this morning just to grab some oregano for some spaghetti sauce I was making from the very tail end of last year's tomatoes. That freezer had to be cleaned out to make room for this spring's grassfed beef, and we are enriched by it.

A funny thing happened on the way to the herb bed --



So a quick run down: morning fog, check. Afternoon sun, check. Summer squash, check. Strawberries, both varieties, check. It must be summer!

Two Heads are Better than One

Gardening out here can sometimes seem like a solitary activity, but it's really not. How could it be in a family of six? There's all the help with hardscape from Eric, and the evenings I force him to walk in the yard with me while I talk about plants, to the kids' various levels of interest and help. So it's always a multi-person effort.

For instance, I only get to see the strawberries so far. Eating seems to be a kid assignment (edited to add that tonight we discovered that the DOG is also eating them -- aaagh):


The flowers that Ellie and I planted together are coming up under the onslaught of more rain than our area has seen in over a hundred years. Sigh. I miss summers. Anyhow, these are blue bread poppies. I'm looking forward to harvesting seeds and then baking:



I thought it was only one, but another of the Padron peppers has decided to return for another year:



Two of the Anna apples are very close to each other. I've never seen this before;


And of course, our prime garden helper also takes seriously the "no empty bed" approach -- to gardening and, er, other things:


He's not alone in his philosophy: