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A warm February Sunday + Free time = the perfect recipe for taking down three small trees from a stand of oaks behind Beland Apiary.

A friend came over with anchors,  straps, and the ability to accurately throw an arbor bag/grappling hook/any heavy object tied to a rope. Because the trees were near fences and had an odd lean I didn’t want to take any chances. He worked his magic with the straps to ensure they fell safely into the yard.

And so they did. We limbed them where they landed and then dragged the thick lengths to the folding sawbuck I made last weekend. There they were cut into a heap of fireplace sized logs.

In under 90 minutes we safely created an airier section of the back yard and a small pile of wood to season. We celebrated in the old New England way with an unfiltered Downeast hard cider. Mmm and well-deserved.

Our dishwasher was sick. Symptoms first presented as a few spots on top rack items. Then the top shelf wasn’t getting clean at all. Finally, the malady progressed to total failure- dishwashing liquid stuck to the door and not a single clean dish.

Being a resourceful Yankee (read: not wanting to buy a new dishwasher when this one might be fixed), I ran a few tests to confirm what was working, what was not, and in the process narrowed the possible failure points.

One recent Saturday morning armed with a plan, the right tools, and an online repair guide I cut the power to the dishwasher and began taking it apart.

I fished out shards of broken wine glass, a petrified blueberry, and chunks of plastic that all pre-dated us. After reassembling the washer’s innards and restoring power we ran it for a few minutes.

Steaming hot water filled the tub and the sprayers doused the top and sides. Success! New Englander 1 – Dishwasher 0.

The talk is about 20 minutes then will open to a q&a session. I will have equipment and gear for you to experience and honey and comb to taste.

Here’s a link to the event flyer at the Lodge’s website. http://eb1870.org/a-year-in-the-life

I’m looking forward to seeing you there.

Our first February snow at the new homestead from the kitchen window until white out conditions.

A fourteen-ish foot diameter hole dominated the back of Beland Apiary. It stood as a reminder of the pool that was once there. The Apiary’s improvement plan includes making the hole disappear.

With severely limited resources before winter arrived, “we” decided to take advantage of the organic matter covering the ground to begin the hole filling process.

Chopped leaves, semi-composted pine needles, some top soil, and stump chips found new homes in the hole with the occasional wood ash and coffee grounds sprinkled on top for good measure. It is a heap of organic matter awaiting a load of loam to cap it. And after a few years of breaking down, it will be be home to lush grass or whatever is planted there. Now we need spring to arrive.

A friend gave me a bottle of his homemade, beans-steeped-in-bourbon, vanilla extract. This is hands-down the good stuff, real deal, and any other colloquialism you care to use.

I poured my first taste into a shot glass. It tasted amazing. In fact, it was almost too good to overcome my Yankee rationing gene (anything rated “special” or better must be rationed because it’s too good for everyday use). These items only appear on important occassions and in very limited quantities.

Luckily the gene’s influence weakens with age. So Sunday morning the CIO and I enjoyed  a glass of what may be the most delicious vanilla flavored iced coffee we’ve had.

If you find yourself at the Apiary, don’t be shy. Ask for a taste of the bourbon vanilla, we’ll share.

Two o’clock one recent morning I found myself on the kitchen floor, two hands deep in our Chief Quality Officer’s mouth. She thought gobbling a cling film wrapped brownie in the dark was an easy mission. Fake having to go outside, sneak into the kitchen when the human puts on her bathrobe, and wolf down the forbidden treat.

Here are a few pictures of her just a day before the brownie incident to remind the Executive Team here at the Apiary why we love her so much.

Queen of the couch

Queen of the coffee

Queen of the bed

One Saturday evening last February we celebrated birthdays, of which one was mine.

When we started the gift exchange I opened a package from Duluth Trading Post containing two narrow, flattened green bags. These oddly sized bags are made of their extremely durable firehose cotton and boast bronzed heavy duty zippers and leather accents.

At first glance I hadn’t the foggiest idea what they were for. Eventually the chianti-induced synapsic pause faded and my brain roared “for shaving stuff.”

Shauna, noticing the look of puzzlement, corrected my mistaken belief. “They are for your beekeeping tools” she said.

Interesting. I never would have thought to put propolis caked tools in such a beautiful bag. Inevitably wax flakes, honey droplets, and bee parts would coat the bag’s exterior, never mind what would end up inside it. They were too nice to be used so roughly.

I avoided putting anything beekeeping in them for a few weeks, preferring to use my beat up, deep Craftsman bag. Then one afternoon just for fun I tried stuffing the bee brush, an invaluable tool of annoying length, into the longer Duluth bag. It fit! As did the hive tools, fixed blade knife, lighter, alcohol spray, sponge, scraping cups, and gloves. Success!

The first few propolis stains on the bag will make me sad, but stains evolve into patina, marks of use and pride.

Post Script It’s been nearly a year since I wrote the above and I can say the bag held up very well to the abuses thrown at and in it this past season. If you want a durable, classy  beekeeping tool bag, this is it.