Posts Tagged ‘autumn’

Wild life

Saturday, November 20th, 2010

Today I took a walk along the carriage trails in Acadia National Park toward Witch’s Hole and the Breakneck Ponds. The park is a good place to observe nature in action, and I saw two peregrine falcons, a predaceous diving beetle (late in the season, but the swamp is still warm), a white-tail buck (very common in the park, where there is no hunting), countless red squirrels and six beavers. The first lodge pond is very close to the Eagle Lake Rd. – the dam is only 15′ from the highway. I saw a beaver couple here, the “v” of their swim across the pond is to the right of the lodge.

I walked farther down the carriage road to the first of the Breakneck Ponds, and found a recent “chew”. Here the beaver has felled a poplar and a carried the tree off for construction purposes.

And this is why beavers can be hazardous to your health – I’m glad it wasn’t windy.

Further down the carriage road the park has been forced to intervene. Beavers have dropped a fairly large birch tree across the road and the park crew has chainsawed it into manageable pieces.

At the last lodge I visited there were two beavers cruising the deep water in front of this impressive dam. Evidently they don’t take weekends off.

Prospect, ME

Thursday, November 18th, 2010

Tonight I drove across the Verona Island Bridge, past Fort Knox and out to the Prospect Community Hall for the Tri-County Beekeepers Association Annual Meeting and Pot Luck.  First order of business was to honor Genevieve for her 20 years work as our treasurer with a carrot cake from Frank’s. You’re a Honey!

Speaker for the evening was Tony Jadczak, the Maine State Apiarist. Tony’s talk was centered around 2010 weather: the warm, early spring followed by a terrific summer honey crop, then a drought setting in for July and August and a dearth of honey this fall. A long dry summer means no goldenrod, and that means the bees eat their winter stores early. In 2009 we had one of the coldest, rainiest summers on record but the rain stopped in early September and the vegetation was lush. Hives put on a lot of honey and the bounty carried many weaker hives, and even some wild colonies, through a very mild winter. Tony took us through the consequences of “reinfestation pressure” and predictions for 2011, touched on new virus research and the ever increasing threat of mites, and talked about the people all over Maine who make their living (and their kids tuition) by the bees.

While I was there I noticed that renovations to the Prospect Community Hall continue. Sometimes I think every building in Maine is a product of retrofitting: the Hall has three layers of ceiling, two front doors (leading directly to the shoulder of Rt 1A) and a new bathroom.

I miss the old bathroom with its irregular toilet and the sheet of polished steel as a mirror, but the flowers are a nice touch.

Like the beekeepers, the Hall is ever-changing in an effort to keep up with the times; to be useful and purposeful and bug free as much as possible.

Hasty

Sunday, November 14th, 2010

Thursday was a beautiful day and I had it off from work (thank you, Uncle Dwight, who was a Chosin Marine). I checked on the bees and “Stripey” was doing very well – lots of full comb and traffic, some bees were even landing with dark orange pollen. I’ve given up trying to figure out where the flowers are at odd times of the year; I’m sure some wealthy summer person’s gardens are full of alpine poppies down in Northeast Harbor, blooming orange and purple in mid-November. It wouldn’t be the first time I wished I could travel with the bees.

I realized I was in trouble when I took the top cover off to check the level of sugar in the feeder box. The syrup was shot through with green mold that looked like seaweed and smelled like vinegar. The bees hadn’t touched it and all the previous week while I was hoping they were happily stocking up while trapped in their hives by wind and rain. The week of damp, 65 degree weather might have encouraged mold, and this year I bought cheap, store brand sugar for 1/3 the price of Domino’s in 15 lb bags so perhaps that was a factor, too. In any case, I pulled the feeder box off the hive (heavy!), cleaned and bleached it, dried it in the sun and then refilled it and went to check on Hive Two (Two Bee).

Two Bee, sadly, was empty. The top box had comb on only three frames, so I took it off and poked around a bit. The remaining boxes smelled good – honey and beeswax – so I put the top cover on, blocked the entrances and walked away, figuring I would use the set-up for the new package bees on order from R. Weaver Apiaries in the spring. My only excuse here is that this is normally the time of year I lose a hive and I was rushed.

Yesterday was another beautiful day – 60 degrees and perfectly still – and the bees in Stripey were out and about in force. I went out to check the sugar level (about two days depleted, perfect) and then realized I heard buzzing – from both hives. I knocked the wooden door cover off the “dead” hive and bees immediately boiled out. And kept coming. Pissed at having been cooped up all day Friday, they formed a cloud in front of the hive and began making foraging sorties, and boy, did I feel stupid. I ran in the house and made them a batch of fall syrup, grabbed the clean feeder box out of the hoop house and promptly made my second mistake in two days.

Lore and practice suggest wearing white, smooth clothing while tending bees.  Popular reasoning goes that most bee predators are dark and fuzzy: bears, skunks, raccoons, etc. I’ve never had a problem wearing work clothes around my hives, but I do “dress up” in a white beekeeping outfit with a full hood when doing anything invasive. Yesterday morning I was wearing a dark red long-sleeved shirt and a black skirt with black tights and shoes. When I popped the cover off the second hive to put a shim and feeder on top four guard bees immediately settled on my right forearm and stung me as a group. I had the feeder box in my hands and couldn’t brush them off for a few seconds – it felt like my arm was on fire.

Now, Sunday evening, my arm is red and swollen hard from elbow to about 2″ above my wrist. I don’t typically react very much to bee stings, but perhaps four at once was a shock to the system. I’ll try not to do that again right away.

Raspberries Redux

Sunday, November 7th, 2010

Seventeen years ago raspberries were the first permanent planting in our garden. Our land has been harvested for spruce and pine, cleared for pigs and burned over, but it has never been farmed. When I planted those first berry bushes I moved rocks and dug through deep deposits of yellow clay, lined the holes with seaweed and horse bedding from the stable up the street, mulched the new stalks with salt hay and waited. Turns out that raspberries will put up with a lot of abuse. There were late springs, early winters, droughty summers, deer, birds and weeds but most summers I picked raspberries by the gallon.  The yield increased in 2006 when I began keeping bees, disguising the decline of bushes that had been producing well in poor soil and without weed control. 2009 was a terrible year in the garden, nothing did well, and while I thought about replacing the now 15 year old plants, I didn’t have a plan.

Now, I have a plan. Last week I dug over the beds, removing the old plants and uprooting the alpine strawberries and miner’s spinach that had become a thick ground cover. Today I dug out rough squares to use as planting areas for the new canes come spring, and covered the plot with landscape fabric.

I removed most of the decent soil and will use it next spring, after subzero temperatures have killed most of the weeds. I’m using my new favorite building material – firewood from the bottom of last year’s stack – to station the landscape fabric and mold it to the holes.

I bought two bushes last year, variety “Killarney”, and transplanted them to the new bed this afternoon. This fall I plan to purchase “Anne”, an ever-bearing yellow, “Royalty Purple” and “Prelude”, and early fruiting red. Raspberry plants are sold bare-root in bundles of 10 or 5 canes, depending on the variety. I plant them in hills, so will divide the shipment up by the size of the holes I’ve dug.

And finally, where is my matched team of Morgans when I need them?

Wood is the new hay

Saturday, October 30th, 2010

I miss my pickup truck. When fall came around I used to be able to load six bales of hay into the back of the truck and use it as mulch. We have low temperatures of -15 or so every winter, and possibly lower, so protection of surface roots is a must. A layer of mulch can also mitigate the extreme differences in temperature of a Maine spring – minus 10 degrees in the morning to 40 by 2 in the afternoon. Today I decided to use materials at hand, and mulched several perennial beds and fruit trees with bark strips from our firewood. I’ll post more pictures tomorrow.

So far, it seems like a pretty good idea.

Signs of the season

Saturday, October 23rd, 2010

Someone dressed the owl for Halloween. . .

. . .and the Fedco Tree Catalog is here! I had promised myself I wouldn’t even look at the fruit trees because THERE IS NO MORE ROOM, but the Klehm’s Improved Betchtel is incredibly tempting.

Pumpkin pie

Sunday, October 17th, 2010

First, get a pumpkin. What you really want is a New England Pie Pumpkin: dark orange, sweet and beautifully sized – one pumpkin, one pie. Those prize-winning giants at the fair are actually gourds and their watery flesh doesn’t cook well, but those big ones from the grocery store that you’re going to carve into Jack O’Lanterns make a decent pie.

Split the pumpkin in half between the stem and blossom end. If it’s very hard, put a sharp knife in all the way to the hilt repeatedly all around and then use a blunt edge (small crowbar, a screwdriver – but not your knife) to lever it open. Scoop out the fibrous insides and separate the seeds to roast with your pie in the oven. Run some water into the scooped halves and then dump it out. Put the halves cut side down on a foil lined baking sheet and roast at 375 for 45 minutes to an hour. The time will vary widely on the size and freshness of the pumpkin. You should be able to puncture the skin easily with a fork when done.

Scoop the flesh out of the skin. A NE Pie pumpkin will make about 1 1/2 C of pulp. Whisk together 3/4 C sugar, 2 eggs* and 1 can of evaporated milk and add to the pumpkin with 1 tsp ginger, 1 tsp cinnamon and 1/2 tsp salt. Whisk gently till blended and pour into an unbaked pie shell. Bake at 375 for 10 minutes, then 345 for 45 minutes or until the middle of the pie is set. Any extra filling mix can be ladled into small pyrex dishes as custard.

*Preferrably fresh, local eggs. Thank you, Carrie’s chickens!

Who put this here?

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Five years ago I planted a small elderberry sapling “hard by” the front door, as they say around here. Well, it was way too “hard by”, and although the dog loved lying under it all summer and it produced bumper crops of berries for tonic and jelly, it was much too close to the front door of the house. No matter how much I pruned it back, the next year all adult visitors were ducking under the branches to come in and at midseason all you could see out the front of the house was elderberry bush, so I finally knuckled down and took it out. It was a three day process that involved wheelbarrows, picks and shovels, and assistance – which is something I rarely need in the garden. I moved the cropped remains to the lower garden (where the bush seems happy enough) lined the hole with plastic to discourage regrowth, filled it in with rocks and went on my way.

Two years later I noticed a few stalks of elderberry coming up by the Green Cone in the doorway. They were cute, blossomed nicely in the spring, and I let them be. This year(to be known henceforth as “The Most Incredible Gardening Year Ever 2010″) produced large crops of everything and that included elderberries. The bush grew 25 stalks to 12′, all hung with fat bunches of glossy black berries. And one morning I exited the house into the shade of the elderberry jungle and thought, “Who would plant a bush that size in the way of their front door?” And then, well, I really wished I had someone else to blame.

So I spent the morning cutting the 12′ branches down by half, digging out 4′ white roots nearly an inch in circumference, and discovered shoots springing up everywhere. Now that I’m no longer in denial I’ll have to root those out – I know what happens if I leave them to grow for a year or three.

The stalks have been cut and piled to one side and the wooden sides of the raised bed removed.

The roots encircled the base of the green cone, but the bush is so vigorous that I simply cut them off and removed the rest of the roots after the transplant.

I couldn’t move the root mass in one go, so I used some big loppers and a bow saw to cut it in half.

I placed the clumps of roots and stalks over a marshy part of the swamp, backfilled with soil, added a layer of mulch hay and then added old firewood to keep everything in place. I find that transplants take much more readily to their new home if movement from wind and weight is keep to a minimum.

The next post will be a view of the garden from the front door  – finally!

Oh, good gigantic smile o’ the brown old earth

Saturday, October 9th, 2010

Among the Rocks

by Robert Browning

Oh, good gigantic smile o’ the brown old earth,
This autumn morning! How he sets his bones
To bask i’ the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet
For the ripple to run over in its mirth;
Listening the while, where on the heap of stones
The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet.
That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;
Such is life’s trial, as old earth smiles and knows.
If you loved only what were worth your love,
Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you:
Make the low nature better by your throes!
Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!

Hattie’s Day

Friday, October 8th, 2010

My mother, Harriet (one “t” no “e”) was born on October 9, 1928. Tonight in celebration we had buttermilk vanilla cake with fudge frosting from Alisa Huntsman’s book “Sky High“, Martha Stewart’s mac-and-cheese as re-imagined by Smitten Kitchen, and cabbage slaw with Westfield Seek-no-further apples and Seckel pears from the trees in the dooryard. Good friends K. and S. were there, and there are no better friends than the kind who come over for your mom’s birthday. Thanks, guys!

I’ve promised blog entries for the slaw dressing (buttermilk, honey, cider vinegar and so forth) and the cake, but after that meal and some follow-up vodka I’m just going to scan a picture of my mom and call it good.

This is Harriet on your left, the eldest, and moving to the right: Harrison, “Pinky Blue the Doll”, Cynthia and Dorothy. Grampa Barnard’s house still stands at the “vee” of Jerome and Bloomfield Ave. I estimate the date of the photo at about 1940 – a long way from Bar Harbor in 2010.

Happy Birthday, Mom!