I dropped Little Z off at a friend's today so that I could lay on the couch for awhile and try to get better. I was just settling on the couch when the doorbell rang. The top half of our door is a window. I opened the curtain and saw that it was someone I didn't know, a woman with a clip board.
I shut the curtain and went back to the couch. She kept knocking for a spell, then finally went away. Considering the nature of that window, it was pretty near impossible that she didn't see me open the curtain, although we did not make eye contact.
I just couldn't handle it. I needed to rest. I'm sorry, person at my door. I just couldn't handle it. I just couldn't handle it!
The Bees and the Fever
I have officially levelled up in bee keeping. I successfully caught a swarm! With my special helper, of course. The bees we caught are thriving.
And I seem to have the flu. Which is why this is so brief. I also have this hideous bug bite on my arse that makes it hard to sit down straight. Maybe the bug bite gave me a fever?
And I seem to have the flu. Which is why this is so brief. I also have this hideous bug bite on my arse that makes it hard to sit down straight. Maybe the bug bite gave me a fever?
I'm allergic to ice cream. It makes me fat.
It goes like this: We eat for energy. Everything has energy, and the stuff we eat is energy. That's why we eat it. The Eastern mythologies talk about chi and different kinds of energy. The Hindus have Karma. I think that, when we raise food unnaturally, it creates a bad sort of energy. Bad chi. Bad karma. And when you eat it, that bad energy is passed into your system. Sometimes, it makes you sick. If you figure it out, you call it an allergy. I think most people don't figure it out, though. Most people just feel sort of blah all of the time and get used to it. We get fat and stuff. We get there so gradually, we barely notice.
To muddy the waters, though, I think there are people who aren't really allergic, whose bodies actually deal quite well with all of the bad chi, but people crave attention, so they make up allergies or exaggerate their symptoms for attention. And you never know who is for real!
Although, maybe it doesn't matter. We shouldn't have to deal with this at all.
The eggs we sell are so absolutely wonderful tasting compared to store eggs. They are just so yummy. It makes no sense to me at all, because we don't do anything special for these chickens. They don't have their own spa out back, you know. They're just eggs. And the same goes for the veggies from the garden. It makes me wonder just how bad is the food from the middle aisles of the grocery store? The packaged food? What the heck is going on?
I'm sort of afraid to think about it.
The title of this entry is a quote from Grandma Ruth.
To muddy the waters, though, I think there are people who aren't really allergic, whose bodies actually deal quite well with all of the bad chi, but people crave attention, so they make up allergies or exaggerate their symptoms for attention. And you never know who is for real!
Although, maybe it doesn't matter. We shouldn't have to deal with this at all.
The eggs we sell are so absolutely wonderful tasting compared to store eggs. They are just so yummy. It makes no sense to me at all, because we don't do anything special for these chickens. They don't have their own spa out back, you know. They're just eggs. And the same goes for the veggies from the garden. It makes me wonder just how bad is the food from the middle aisles of the grocery store? The packaged food? What the heck is going on?
I'm sort of afraid to think about it.
The title of this entry is a quote from Grandma Ruth.
The Nature Collection
Little Z got stung by a bee today in our nifty above ground swimming pool. I thought it was quite ironic, considering recent events. I didn't laugh, though. That would be cruel. It was difficult, but I did not laugh. She said it wasn't a honeybee. It was right on the tip of her finger where she got stung. She's fine.
I was weeding. This is what the good part of my garden looks like:
You can't see the bad part.
I was weeding the bad part today, which is actually wonderfully full of strawberries but also terribly full of weeds. And Little Z started replanting the weeds I pulled in pots. She told me,
"Give me your biggest weed! With some root, too!" And she replanted them, "for her nature collection".
The nature collection is this interesting assortment of things she has collected in the outdoors. It is always changing. She used to give tours. Once, she tried to charge me $5 for the tour. I said,
"How about a dime?" and she said,
"Okay."
The nature collection right now has a grasshopper in a jar, some rocks, some flowers in a an old ice cream tub, some sand, and now, weeds.
One thing is certain: Mumsey would not approve.
I was weeding. This is what the good part of my garden looks like:
You can't see the bad part.
I was weeding the bad part today, which is actually wonderfully full of strawberries but also terribly full of weeds. And Little Z started replanting the weeds I pulled in pots. She told me,
"Give me your biggest weed! With some root, too!" And she replanted them, "for her nature collection".
The nature collection is this interesting assortment of things she has collected in the outdoors. It is always changing. She used to give tours. Once, she tried to charge me $5 for the tour. I said,
"How about a dime?" and she said,
"Okay."
The nature collection right now has a grasshopper in a jar, some rocks, some flowers in a an old ice cream tub, some sand, and now, weeds.
Le Charme Des Abeilles
Unbelievably, we caught the swarm today.
It happened like this: I woke up this morning and BAH said,
"You'll never catch them now, if they're in that tall grass."
So, later, when Little Z and I put on our protective clothing, it was all very half-hearted. I said,
"We're just checking on them. We probably won't be able to catch them, unless they just climbed inside that box."
Well, guess what? They just climbed inside that box. It must have been the French perfume. (Le Charme Des Abeilles. It's sort of like Axe for bees, you know?) Those Frenchies really do the bee keeping right.
The box was mangled badly from last night's failed attempt, so I used about a half pound of masking tape on it, while Little Z sprayed the bees with sugar water so they wouldn't fly away. Amazingly, the spray bottle worked perfectly fine today. Also, once again, I just haver to point this out: my bee keeping assistant is five years old, and she does a damn fine job!
Once the box was taped securely, I picked it up, and it was heavy, which is a good sign. Then we just drove it on over to the empty bee hive- which wasn't quite empty, actually. Stinging ants had taken up residence in it. Of course! But I got the stinging ants out yesterday, and then I put a little bit of bee perfume in there, too!
So we were all set. Except... really, I though dumping them into yet another box was going to make those bees angry, and I didn't want my little girl getting stung. Just when I was trying to figure out how to approach this, Little Z said,
"Can I just walk home now?"
"Sure."
So, I waited for her to walk away, I dumped the bees in the empty hive, the bees got angry and tried to sting me, but I was prepared and didn't get stung. I put the lid on and left.
I checked on them later. They're still in there, setting up home!
It happened like this: I woke up this morning and BAH said,
"You'll never catch them now, if they're in that tall grass."
So, later, when Little Z and I put on our protective clothing, it was all very half-hearted. I said,
"We're just checking on them. We probably won't be able to catch them, unless they just climbed inside that box."
Well, guess what? They just climbed inside that box. It must have been the French perfume. (Le Charme Des Abeilles. It's sort of like Axe for bees, you know?) Those Frenchies really do the bee keeping right.
Once the box was taped securely, I picked it up, and it was heavy, which is a good sign. Then we just drove it on over to the empty bee hive- which wasn't quite empty, actually. Stinging ants had taken up residence in it. Of course! But I got the stinging ants out yesterday, and then I put a little bit of bee perfume in there, too!
So we were all set. Except... really, I though dumping them into yet another box was going to make those bees angry, and I didn't want my little girl getting stung. Just when I was trying to figure out how to approach this, Little Z said,
"Can I just walk home now?"
"Sure."
So, I waited for her to walk away, I dumped the bees in the empty hive, the bees got angry and tried to sting me, but I was prepared and didn't get stung. I put the lid on and left.
I checked on them later. They're still in there, setting up home!
Bee Swarm
Little Z went off to a friend's house today and I thought, Finally some time to myself! I can put that new fence up!
So, I'm pound pound pounding away on those fence posts, and suddenly there is a swarm of bees in front of me! I didn't hear them, because I was wearing ear plugs to block out the pounding, but I guess they heard me and they didn't like it! And they must've planned on swarming... or something. I don't understand it. Anyway, I took off the ear plugs and the noise was quite disconcerting.
Such a pleasant time to myself to get work done... BZZZZZZZZ!
I went and put some bee keeping clothes on, called the expert (BAH) and went back out, and at first I thought everything was fine. Until... I found the swarm, partly inside a tree fence, and partly outside a tree fence. Another trip back to the house and I took the fence down. Now, however, they were swarming in the tall grass. BAH's instructions were to sweep them into a box and put them into our one empty hive. How to sweep them into a box?
First, I put a box next them and tried to sweep them in. That didn't work. Then I wrapped a sheet around the whole bit of tall grass and tree with the bees, and put a box in there, too, and I seemed to get a lot of bees. Then Little Z came home and put on her beekeeping outfit (fleece footy pajamas and a beekeeper hat). She smoked the bees and I put them into a still bigger box. [Note: Maybe I should be calling Little Z BAK - Bad Ass Kid? What five and a half year old helps you catch a swarm of bees, anyway? I did not make her at all. She pretty much insisted on doing it. I swear!]
We took away the box to the other hive and dumped them in. There were precious few. Most of the bees had remained in the grass. Darn.
Little Z and I set up the box next to the bees in the grass again, this time with some fancy French bee lure in the box. Nothing like French perfume to attract the bees.
Bees are supposedly docile at dusk, so I snuck back out there at 9 PM, and they were so docile, all sleeping quietly in the grass. Ah. The life pastoral. I can just slide those right into that box there, I thought.
So, I ran back into the house (which is maybe a quarter mile) and got my bee hat and my gloves and the bee broom to sweep them, and I mixed some sugar water to spray on them so that they couldn't fly- although they didn't look like they could fly at night, anyway. I don't think they can see at night.
So. No reason to take the usual precautions. I was alone. No five and a half year old needed to be protected from bee stings. I've worn little protection in the past, and it's all turned out okay.
Famous last words.
I went out there. The bees were sleeping. I started sweeping them into the heavily perfumed box. They started flying. I sprayed and- nothing! The sprayer was broken! I thought, I'll just do it really quickly, before they all wake up... More sweeping, more bees flying into the air, tried the sprayer again, still didn't work. I needed my trusty assistant with the smoker! Then I started getting stung in the legs. In my haste, I hadn't changed into thicker pants! I was just wearing leggings. Stung two or three times in the thighs. I tried taping up the box, thinking I could cut my losses, fumbled it in my bee gloves, dropped it-- hundreds of angry bees were flying out, stinging my legs! Getting into my shirt! Buzzing past my ears!
I ran like hell. Of course. My sweater is out there in the field somewhere where I dropped it as I ran. There were bees in it.
So, I guess bees don't like being awakened at night. Who knew?
So, I'm pound pound pounding away on those fence posts, and suddenly there is a swarm of bees in front of me! I didn't hear them, because I was wearing ear plugs to block out the pounding, but I guess they heard me and they didn't like it! And they must've planned on swarming... or something. I don't understand it. Anyway, I took off the ear plugs and the noise was quite disconcerting.
Such a pleasant time to myself to get work done... BZZZZZZZZ!
I went and put some bee keeping clothes on, called the expert (BAH) and went back out, and at first I thought everything was fine. Until... I found the swarm, partly inside a tree fence, and partly outside a tree fence. Another trip back to the house and I took the fence down. Now, however, they were swarming in the tall grass. BAH's instructions were to sweep them into a box and put them into our one empty hive. How to sweep them into a box?
First, I put a box next them and tried to sweep them in. That didn't work. Then I wrapped a sheet around the whole bit of tall grass and tree with the bees, and put a box in there, too, and I seemed to get a lot of bees. Then Little Z came home and put on her beekeeping outfit (fleece footy pajamas and a beekeeper hat). She smoked the bees and I put them into a still bigger box. [Note: Maybe I should be calling Little Z BAK - Bad Ass Kid? What five and a half year old helps you catch a swarm of bees, anyway? I did not make her at all. She pretty much insisted on doing it. I swear!]
We took away the box to the other hive and dumped them in. There were precious few. Most of the bees had remained in the grass. Darn.
Little Z and I set up the box next to the bees in the grass again, this time with some fancy French bee lure in the box. Nothing like French perfume to attract the bees.
Bees are supposedly docile at dusk, so I snuck back out there at 9 PM, and they were so docile, all sleeping quietly in the grass. Ah. The life pastoral. I can just slide those right into that box there, I thought.
So, I ran back into the house (which is maybe a quarter mile) and got my bee hat and my gloves and the bee broom to sweep them, and I mixed some sugar water to spray on them so that they couldn't fly- although they didn't look like they could fly at night, anyway. I don't think they can see at night.
So. No reason to take the usual precautions. I was alone. No five and a half year old needed to be protected from bee stings. I've worn little protection in the past, and it's all turned out okay.
Famous last words.
I went out there. The bees were sleeping. I started sweeping them into the heavily perfumed box. They started flying. I sprayed and- nothing! The sprayer was broken! I thought, I'll just do it really quickly, before they all wake up... More sweeping, more bees flying into the air, tried the sprayer again, still didn't work. I needed my trusty assistant with the smoker! Then I started getting stung in the legs. In my haste, I hadn't changed into thicker pants! I was just wearing leggings. Stung two or three times in the thighs. I tried taping up the box, thinking I could cut my losses, fumbled it in my bee gloves, dropped it-- hundreds of angry bees were flying out, stinging my legs! Getting into my shirt! Buzzing past my ears!
I ran like hell. Of course. My sweater is out there in the field somewhere where I dropped it as I ran. There were bees in it.
So, I guess bees don't like being awakened at night. Who knew?
Duck, duck, duck... where?
Well, nobody got eaten, but clearly something happened during the night:
He's on the wrong side of the fence!
It's nothing my trusty friend, Net, can't fix.
And all is once again right in duck world.
I wonder why he escaped? Usually, it takes something very frightening to make them try to jump the fence. They like staying home, I think.
P.S. Later on now-- I've been wondering all day about how that duck got out of the fence. It's an electric fence, and it holds the ducks in even when it's turned off. But it was on. And when I turned it off in the morning, the duck wanted to get back in, but needed help to do so. What a mystery!
It's nothing my trusty friend, Net, can't fix.
I wonder why he escaped? Usually, it takes something very frightening to make them try to jump the fence. They like staying home, I think.
P.S. Later on now-- I've been wondering all day about how that duck got out of the fence. It's an electric fence, and it holds the ducks in even when it's turned off. But it was on. And when I turned it off in the morning, the duck wanted to get back in, but needed help to do so. What a mystery!
The Common Fear
The fear is that the bad thing you just said it was lucky it didn't happen is just about to happen because you just said it hadn't happened. Example:
"I'm surprised no one's eaten those big, plump Pekin ducks we have out there."
"I know. The fence really isn't that good."
And now the fear is that, tonight, the quackers shall be eaten. I guess we should have knocked on wood?
Not my picture.
"I'm surprised no one's eaten those big, plump Pekin ducks we have out there."
"I know. The fence really isn't that good."
And now the fear is that, tonight, the quackers shall be eaten. I guess we should have knocked on wood?
Not my picture.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)