Posts Tagged ‘spring’

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April bees, 2010

Monday, April 26th, 2010

Larry the Postmaster called at 7:30 this morning that “my package” had arrived – thanks, Larry! Drove down to Mount Desert center (the gas station/one stop, the post office and a bank) and picked up three pounds of Buckfast bees and a queen from Bee Weaver Apiary – thanks Laura! They were in fine shape, clustered around their can of sugar and the queen cage on this 50 degree morning.

I removed the can, brushed everybody off the queen cage so that I could confirm her health and remove the wax plug from the bottom of the cage and placed her between two frames. Her exit is also plugged by a little bit of candy, and the workers will eat through that and release her sometime in the next few days. Then I dumped the workers out of the box and over the frames, closed the hive, filled the feeder with sugar syrup and propped the box in front of the hive entrance so that the bees that didn’t fall into the hive will find their way inside on their own.

Today I worked with a bee suit but no gloves, and no smoker. The bees were social, very curious and very active, but I was not stung – or even menaced – even as I was rather literally up to my elbows in them. I like these bees. The peach trees in the front yard are moments away from full bloom, so I think they will like it here, too.

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A hive of a different color

Saturday, April 24th, 2010

The Tri-County Beekeepers Association meetings are chock full of information. I have scribbled notes in my Moleskin that I’ll probably decode some day, but one of the tidbits I picked up was that my hives should all be slightly different  so that the bees have visual cues for which one is home. I’ve painted all of my woodenware light cream but it hasn’t really been an issue because this is the first year I’ve had more than one viable hive.Today I wanted to make a “split” – to remove a few frames of brood and eggs (or perhaps even a capped queen cell to make a new queen) and let the bees go on to make a second colony in the new boxes.

I like the Behr “Premium Plus” paint and primer combination for finishing woodenware.  It is acrylic, very durable, dries quickly and is less expensive than buying primer and a finish coat. The Paint Lady at Home Depot was having an extended hoe-down with someone on the phone who wanted to take a class in lead paint removal, and she was being extremely polite to this idiot as she helped me make my paint selection. We had a kind of sign language conversation about how she didn’t stock the dark base paint in quarts, did I want a gallon of dark green, or a quart of something lighter? And that’s how I ended up with a new hive in “Pistachio”. I had a dream last night that Martha Stewart was visiting, and she liked it, as do the bees.

I don’t have any pictures of the interior of the hives as I did the split. I was wearing my full suit and it was 50 degrees and breezy today. Bad enough that when I separated the boxes I exposed brood – I didn’t want to let them sit out long enough to grab the camera. They had been busy. Every frame I pulled was studded with capped queen cells along the bottom – swarming was imminent! I eliminated a few and transported one frame with a capped queen all ready to go to the new (pistachio) hive, with a few frames of food and nurse bees. I blocked most of the entrance with straw and put the feeder on full of syrup. Now I just have to wait, and not disturb them, and see if they “take”. I hope they do. This hive is so sturdy, and so social – I was elbow deep in them today and they never took offense. It would be lovely to have more of them.

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A weed is just a plant in the wrong place.

Friday, April 16th, 2010

And the wrong place for your Ground Sand Cherry is the leach field of your septic tank. When I got the Sand Cherry from Fedco, it was not all that impressive. A mere slip of a plant with red, shiny bark, tiny dark green leaves and (eventually) white single-petaled blossoms, it seemed at home in the alpine garden. It is a truly prostrate plant, rising only 2″ or so in sinuous waves and sending out rootlets everywhere it is in contact with the ground. For the first few years the siting seemed very appropriate and it added a needed structure to the clumps of heather and low growing seedum varieties around it.

Ten years later, it is a proper tree 15′ in diameter branch spread with a 4″ caliper to the main branches and a distinct resemblance to a daylight Cuthulu. The above-ground profile of a tree is matched by its root system, so this is not the sort of thing you want atop your leach field.  Yesterday I dug it up and moved it to a sandy hillside where I can stand back and watch what it does for its next trick. Photo below is of the new site:

I’m not even concerned about the broken branches. I covered them with soil, they’ll root, and I’ll just end up with more Sand Cherry. And that’s fine – the bees love the blossoms, it is completely pest free, the deer don’t bother it and the peculiar growth habit is visually interesting all year long. It can grow to be 30′ for all I care. Now that’s it’s not crowding out the septic field. The remaining plants look a little sparse for now, but will fill in this summer.

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Spring cleaning

Sunday, April 11th, 2010

This is the season for small stuff: raspberry canes, slash from bigger trees, last year’s corn stalks and all the debris that has been piling up since last time I could get an open burn permit. It made quite a pile!

I gathered all the tools, called to check in with the guys at the BHFD – very cheerful at 7:30 on a Sunday morning – and started with some green pine branches and a paper bag of newspapers.

It was a beautiful morning that changed into a cloudy, stormy mid-day and back again. Through it all the chickadees called, the redwinged blackbirds growled and chirped at each other (nesting couples are a new addition to the swamp this year) and my bees bothered me about my jar of cranberry juice until I gave them some in the bottle cap. Then they were content to jostle each other around their own serving.

I fed the fire, pruned more debris and every once in a while sat down to read. The wind was a little high today for the perfect burn and I let the fire die down between loads. Despite the recent rains there is still a lot of tinder in the standing reeds and deadwood downwind in the swamp.

Much better! Safer, too. A big pile of brush at the end of the driveway is a liability in August, when a stray spark can take the whole pile. November will be wet again and I can clear up the big logs that will sit and dry all summer. Till then, there’s Robert Louis Stevenson.

In the other gardens

And all up the vale,

From the autumn bonfires

See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over

And all the summer flowers,

The red fire blazes,

The grey smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!

Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer,

Fires in the fall!

In the other gardens
     And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
     See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over
     And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
     The grey smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!
     Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
In the other gardens

And all up the vale,

From the autumn bonfires

See the smoke trail!

 

Pleasant summer over

And all the summer flowers,

The red fire blazes,

The grey smoke towers.

 

Sing a song of seasons!

Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer,

Fires in the fall!

 

     Fires in the fall!

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Easter eggs

Sunday, April 4th, 2010

Pink pickled deviled eggs are a treat any time of year, but traditional for spring. We just had an Easter supper of tabouleh, baba ganouj, pita chips, fruit salad and pickled eggs – it was wonderful and no one (least of all myself) had to stand over a hot stove on this lovely day.

Hard boil six to eight eggs. My technique is to add the eggs to cold water in a large pot, bring them to a boil with the cover on, then turn off the heat and let stand 15 minutes. Uncover, drain and rinse with cold water, allow eggs to cool enough to handle and peel. Older eggs are much easier to peel.

My original recipe for this dish begins with cooking the beets, adding spices and then making a pickling solution out of the broth. These days I buy a large jar of borscht, empty it into a large container, add 1/4 C brown sugar and two Tbs of cider vinegar and add the eggs. I swear it’s even better this way.

Allow the eggs to stand in the broth for three days, stirring occasionally, in a cool dark place.

Dip the eggs out of the jar with a slotted spoon and compost the broth. Slice them in half, scoop out the yolks and mash separately with 1/4 C mayonnaise or yogurt, 1/4 C mustard, 2 Tbs of chives and a little sea salt. I have sorrel in the garden now, and added 5 leaves chopped fine for a lemony edge. Mix and mash the ingredients until smooth and then add back to the empty “whites” with two spoons. You can use a pastry bag, but I like the less formal approach here. Joyeuses Pâques!

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The swamp is full of noise tonight

Friday, April 2nd, 2010

The wood frogs are out, leading to an experiment in media. I took the little video camera down to the end of the driveway and pointed the microphone end toward the vernal pools that cover almost 2 acres of the back yard.  Later in the month this will be a true cacophony as the peepers join in, but tonight it sounds more like a chorus of individual voices, singing in the spring.

Wood frogs and one peeper

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Compass Harbor

Saturday, March 20th, 2010

Wednesday I had a stuffy day, full of stuffy doctors’ offices stuffed with sick people and lab tests, so when the end of the day rolled around, I took a walk.

Compass Harbor was the home of George Dorr, Acadia National Park’s first superintendent and the “Father of Acadia”. Dorr Mountain looms over the foundations of the house that are all that’s left from the Great Fire, and the stone stairs that sweep down to the ocean. Huge trees have grown up along the easy walk from Rte. 3 to the Harbor, including many exotic escapees from the formal gardens that once surrounded the estate.

I walked down the trail (you can’t really call it hiking) all the way to the point, and the view down Bar Harbor and the Porcupine Islands. Bald Porcupine boasts a 2,500′ breakwater that protects the harbor from southern storms. Local legend has it that J. P. Morgan paid for the Army Corp of Engineers to build it in 1918, to keep his 340′ yacht “Corsair” from rocking too much during cocktail hour. Meanwhile, George Dorr was building “Dorr’s Swimming Pool” – a much more modest project that still involved several tons of cut square blocks of granite. The walls enclosed a shallow part of the harbor with a sandy beach, so that his caretaker’s children could paddle safely in the warmer water no matter what the tide. You can still see the blocks, forced apart now by storms, and the little beach. Somehow the unseasonably balmy day and the setting sun gave the rich man’s project a little glow of affection; lessened the annoying overlay of privilege and exposed the huge, ruined, expensive project as a passing gift from an old man to someone else’s children.

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Time like an ever rolling stream,

Saturday, March 13th, 2010

Bears all its sons away.

They fly, forgotten, as a dream

dies at the opening day.

Today I walked down our road and across the highway to the woods beyond, where Kittredge Brook winds down to Somes Sound. The place has unpleasant seasons; clouds of mosquitoes from Memorial Day to the Fourth of July,  caked white mud and burnt grass in August, cold wet muck in October and featureless white for as long as there’s snow. March seems tolerable. The muck was still mostly frozen under foot, the February flood has receded and the water is pure, showing off its orange tannin underbelly. New England’s answer to howler monkeys, the  pileated woodpeckers, were calling from the flood-dead maples, the deer I startled were fairly fat and sleek for this time of year, and something heavy splashed into the stream, but didn’t bother me. It was a good day.

Rules for walking in the woods alone.

Tell someone where you’re headed and approximately when you will be back, and then stick to the schedule. If no one is around, leave a note. I know it’s hard to fathom, but we don’t have cell phone reception here.

Bring your stick.

If you’re not following a human trail, try to follow a deer track. Deer are stupid, but they do know the best way through the terrain. If the track veers off for no good reason, go right along with it.

If you get wet, go home – preferably by the most public route possible, such as a road or snowmobile trail. You may still die of hypothermia, but this is your best shot at someone finding out what happened to you.

Bring a hat. You’re warm now, and you’ll get warmer walking, but at some point you’ll need a hat.

It is not necessarily paranoid to bring a few emergency items along.  A whistle, a pack of matches and a flashlight aren’t going to slow you down that much. Don’t bring a compass if you don’t know how to use one because it’ll just make you mad when you get lost.

If you have your camera (I always have a camera) and you see something interesting, stop and take a picture. No matter how well you re-trace your steps you will never see that thing again. I have no idea why.

The verse above is from “Our God Our Help in Ages Past”, by Isaac Watts and was the hymn Winston Churchill chose for his funeral.

The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
With all their lives and cares,
Are carried downwards by the flood,
And lost in following years.

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Key limes in the grocery store,

Sunday, March 7th, 2010

make Key Lime (or Mexican, or West Indies lime) pie. That’s just good sense. I use a recipe that someone cut out of a Gourmet magazine nearly ten years ago (it wasn’t me – I don’t cut things out of magazines).  I’ve long since memorized it, but I dug out the original clipping so that I wouldn’t steer you wrong. And yes, it’s the same four or five ingredients I remember, but I have made some adjustments over the years.

The recipe allows for using bottled lime juice, and even recommends a brand. Don’t do it! When key limes appear in your grocery store (or who knows – on the tree in your back yard), then you can make this pie. Absolute proof of this is the fact that you’ll need 1/2 C plus 2 Tbs of juice to make this pie, and that’s exactly how much juice the limes in that silly neon green one pound bag will produce. See? Cosmic.

So. Buy the bag. Allow the limes to ripen in a cool dark place for a few days, until some  are slightly mottled with yellow spots and the skin has thinned. Roll one under your palm on a flat surface to break some of the membrane, then slice off about 1/2″ from one end. Insert your wooden lemon-juicer, or your fingers, and allow the juice to dribble into a large, stable container – like your 2 C pyrex measuring cup. You don’t want to knock this over. Oh, and if you have any papercuts on your hands, or like me, having been pruning blackberry bushes lately, you’ll know. The juice will be pale, rather opaque green and smell wonderful.

For crust

  • 1 1/4 cups graham cracker crumbs from 9 (2 1/4-inch by 4 3/4-inch) crackers
  • 2 tablespoons sugar
  • 5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

For filling

  • 1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
  • 4 large egg yolks
  • 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons key lime juice

Make crust:
Preheat oven to 350°F.

Stir together graham cracker crumbs, sugar, and butter in a bowl with a fork until combined well, then press mixture evenly onto bottom and up side of a 9-inch (4-cup) glass pie plate. Actually, these days I use an 8″ pie pan. They’re a little harder to find, but with the Boy at college I can stand to have less pie around the house. This recipe works well either way.

Bake crust in middle of oven 10 minutes and cool in pie plate on a rack. Leave oven on.

Make filling and bake pie:

Whisk together condensed milk and yolks in a bowl until combined well. Add juice and whisk until combined well (mixture will thicken slightly).  Pour filling into crust and bake in middle of oven 15 minutes. Cool pie completely on rack (filling will set as it cools), then chill, covered, at least 8 hours (or put it in the freezer for about half an hour after it is mostly cool. Keep checking to be sure it does not really freeze.)

Goes well with whipped cream, and an expectation of Spring.

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In like a lamb.

Saturday, March 6th, 2010

Today was a March afternoon disguised as a June morning. Beautiful blue sky, 50 degree temperatures and just the slightest breeze to give the balmy calm air some variety every once in a while. I had to do errands all morning, but after 1:00 I changed shoes, found my safety googles and hauled the pump sprayer out of the cellar. I used All Season dormant oil today – it is petroleum based and not organic-rated, but it is a remarkably passive way to deal with all the various pests that over-winter on fruit trees. I add a few tablespoons of Crocker’s Golden Fish Oil (don’t open it in the house) every time – it adds “stickiness”, is a terrific foliar feed, and repels deer. Perfect. Both these substances are fairly innocuous as pesticides go, but you won’t like them in your eyes, hair, clothing – wear goggles and rubber gloves, please.

Then I went to check on the bees, and found them boiling over like an unwatched pot. I had to reach into the mass at the front of the hive and open the gate-stick a little farther. Fortunately they’re very accommodating even when just waking up, and all that happened was that I had to brush them off my hair, and the back of my neck, with a pine b0ugh.

Soon the fruit trees will wake up, too, and there will be honey in the comb!

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