Bees, Spring, and Allergies, Oh My!

I've just finished coating two hives worth of top bars with beeswax in anticipation of splitting a hive this afternoon. It's incredible, if you think of it: just before a colony of bees swarms, you intervene- taking baby bees, worker bees, and honey/nectar/pollen stores and making a new hive. Hopefully, then, the bees will raise their own queen, acclimate to their new digs, and establish a new happy and healthy colony. It gets technical and the failure rate is real and ugly, but it can happen. Hopefully, today, it will.

Due to a lack of information out there for beekeepers wanting to transition from a Langstroth hive to a Top Bar Hive without having to buy a new nuc of bees, I'm conducting a grand experiment. A video will be forthcoming, but for now, it's all very speculative and risky, this bee experiment I'm hoping to pull off. I'll update soon.

Otherwise, it's spring already here in the East Texas piney woods. Ugh. Pollen is everywhere and most everyone feels awful; our eyes are puffy, our noses run, our conversations are constantly interrupted with someone sneezing or coughing or blowing their nose or their kid's nose or asking if you need to blow your nose. Ha. This year seems especially allergy troublesome. I must find some raw honey remedies that cut down on the boxes of Advil allergy relief and trash cans overflowing with tissues. I know they're out there.

(To do: concoct raw honey allergy relief solutions. Noted.)

Anyhow... how are you? It seems as though it's been awhile. I've been struggling much with finding a rhythm and deciding on priorities and I know that's apparent here. I've missed you, though, and hope you're well as we collectively usher in this warmer, busy bee season.

Off to the hives now, but I'll be back tomorrow with some new pictures. See you then. -Brin

Faring and Fairing

There are certain pursuits which, if not wholly poetic and true, 

do at least suggest a nobler and finer relation to nature than we know. 

The keeping of bees, for instance.

-Henry David Thoreau

It's hive inspection day at the Balm and Honey bee farm. I'm getting ready to climb in my truck, rumble down some county roads, put on my bee suit and crack open a hive. I can't wait. Today I find out how the bees fared this winter... how they're faring headed into the spring honey flow. Today I see how many splits, or new hives, I'll be able to make for the coming year. Today I will taste the sweetness of victory or the bitterness of (temporary) defeat.

I think of beekeepers like I think of firefighters: they're just not normal. No rational person runs into a burning building, and, likewise, no rational person sticks their head into a hive of stinging bees. Both require (at varying levels, sure) a bit of bravery- a deep-seated assurance somewhere inside that you have to be among those who do something about dire situations. Firefighters are more glorious, honorable, and brave, yes. But beekeepers are savers in their own quiet way. I am humbled to join their ranks. 

So today I get bee answers and tomorrow I hit the road for the Mother Earth News (you know that magazine, right?) Texas Fair-- a two day homesteading extravaganza. I'll be taking a cheesemaking class and attending lectures on farming from Joel Salatin (what?!) and diving in to beekeeping and poultry production methods. I think there's a specialty kombucha brewing lesson thrown in there somewhere, too. Pretty sure I won't sleep a wink tonight, I'm that excited.

Will report on bees and the fair next week. Until then, be safe and well, friends. -Brin

Masters and Keepers (The Beauty and Necessity of Bud+Bee+You+Me)

Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made

and forgot to put a soul into.

-Henry Ward Beecher 

We had to chase the Master Gardeners out of my beekeeper's association meeting last night so we could begin on time. The Masters (as I call them)- revered, wise, and weathered- are a motley crew of wrinkled old ladies, sun-beaten old men, and the odd, fresh-faced hipster. I'm in awe of them. They know Latin names for everything and there's nothing they haven't seen.

The Masters line up their latest obsessions in our shared gardening/beekeeping room. (The Masters and the Keepers- as beekeepers are called- are graciously respectful of each other.) The Masters also keep wild-looking, experimental plants under sagging, beaming grow lights in the corner of our room. There are new specimens every month: in January and February there are yellow and white bulbs nodding in test tubes and expertly labeled. March through May ushers in seedlings of all kinds: tomatoes, peppers, squash, and melons. Along June until October, herbs and grasses and so.many.flowers and every vegetable God gave a seed sprawl into the room. November and December roll around and they've vased up Henbit or Camellias or Red Maples. I'm fascinated, always.

Even if you've never given a solitary thought to flowers and bees, both are necessary for your life as you know it. Truly. Buds and blooms provide carbohydrates (nectar) and protein (pollen) for the bees. With it, they make food (honey) to sustain their colony. In doing so, they pollinate roughly one out of every three foods you'll eat today... and many of the wild plants you'll never give a thought to today. The bud-bee-you-me relationship is beautifully symbiotic. God may not have put a soul in flowers or bees, but He did intersect them with ours.

It occurred to me last night, while looking carefully around the room of Masters and Keepers, that these people are the unsung heroes of life as we've come to know it. Forget the athletes and crooners and celebrities. These people, with their borage and bent backs and bee suits, these people are changing the world. While the Masters plant and prune and pull nourishing plants, the Keepers breed and box and bolster the languishing bee. Together, they are fighting a tidal wave of chemicals and disease and urbanization and every dreaded and terrible thing man is doing to kill-off nature and wellness.

God help and bless the Masters and Keepers....

-     -     -     -     -

Yesterday's bee meeting and this morning's Floret Flowers announcement prompted the writing of this intro to a manifesto. (Forgive me.) Want to support or join the Masters/Keepers? Start by planting some bee-friendly seeds this year- in a pot, in a bed or garden, or in a vacant lot. Floret's now selling their beautiful seeds, and, of course, I'm an occasional visitor and longtime fan of Wildseed Farms. Their regional wildflower mixes are perfection. I beg you: plant something, feed a bee, and do what you can this year to support our unsung heroes.

The Modest Fall Harvest

There is nothing in this world like tasting the first spoonful of honey from your very own beehive. Nothing can compare to that heavy, golden sweetness of your own personal, local, raw honey. It's an experience I wish everyone could have... similar to biting into the first vegetable you ever grew or wearing the first dress you ever made. There's just something- otherworldly- about these moments. To me, they're everything that's authentic and real and lovely in this life.

This weekend was my first fall honey harvest. Wanting to leave my bees every advantage this winter, I left them all but one bulging frame of honey. They'll live off those honey stores until the earth begins blooming again in the spring, so my "harvest" was modest, to say the least.

But oh, the quality of that harvest! I used the (old fashioned) crush and strain method to extract that gorgeous honey (also called the jar to jar method), and yielded over 2 pints of honey from that single frame. Two pints! The goal here was to filter the raw honey without heating it, thereby keeping it in its purest, most unadulterated form. This morning, I rendered the beeswax so I can begin making balms. Oh man. The quality of this honey and wax is... like nothing I've ever tasted or seen. This is real. This is authentic. This is pure. 

I'm hooked for life.

If you've ever wanted to get into beekeeping, I encourage you: do it. Don't put it off! If bees aren't your thing, please, I encourage you: support your local beekeeper. Plant bee friendly plants. Buy local, raw honey. 

Here's to many more fall honey harvests! Wishing you a sweet Monday. 

The Hot, Honeyed Hive

My child, eat honey, for it is good, 

and the honeycomb is sweet to the taste.

-Proverbs 24:13

This is a hive inspection weekend. Time to check on these brilliant, never-resting girls.

It was a sweltering 100 degrees yesterday. Too hot and humid to be taking apart a hive of overheated bees, really. But it was past time to check the honey flow and install a feeder in my hive so the bees can make enough honey for winter. So I stuffed my sweaty self into my bee suit, a pair of thick cowhide gloves, and a veil, and went out to the hive. (My Dad came, too, and he took the next few pictures of me working my hive. Thanks, Dad.)

Before getting up to the hive I heard it: that strained- yet somehow contented- hum of thousands of bees. If you've never heard that sound, you need to. You need to. Your soul can feel it, and it's baffling how calming it is. In spite of the therapeutic hum, though, I found them "bearded" on the front of the hive, trying to cool down and regulate the temperature inside their hot, honeyed hive.

I feel you, girls. I feel you.

 Holding hundreds of bees. Don't sneeze!

As hot as we all were, I was eager to take a look inside. With the first frame removed, I had room to lift each heavy, buzzing frame and inspect both sides. In these frames, the bees are putting honey alongside sealed brood that will, in several days, be young worker bees.

Did you know that worker bees are all female, and these girls only live a few weeks during the summer? (They live longer in the winter when there's no honey flow.) They literally work themselves to death. Scientists say it takes around 1,152 of these brilliant beauties to make 16 ounces of honey.

And making honey they are! Take a look at this honey they've capped off below:

Perfection!

It was a great inspection and everything looked ideal: obvious signs of the queen staying busy, no pests, and lots of brood and honey in various stages. I mean, take a look at this golden gorgeousness!:

Keeping bees is such a dream come true. 

I am eagerly awaiting the days of selling honey and wax-based goods at my local farmer's market and online in my little shop, Balm and Honey. Cannot wait. Agh! For now, I'm stocking the shop with my favorite handknit cloths. I'll be listing some 20+ cloths in the next few days! For a little handknit sweetness in your house, too, enter SWEETSUMMER15 at checkout for 15% off your order. Just my little way of saying thank you for sticking around.

Check back Tuesday for a handknit House Helper give away and an update on the house. Until then, hope you have a sweet weekend, despite the heat. -Brin

My Bee-Day

She liked to tell everybody that women made the best beekeepers, 

'cause they have a special ability built into them to love creatures that sting. 

It comes from years of loving children and husbands.

-Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

My bees came yesterday. I am a real life beekeeper now.

If you've been around here any time at all, you might remember me going on and on about wanting to keep bees. I mean, wear-the-suit and rob-a-hive and nurse-bee-stings kind of keep bees. Local, red clover honey was calling me. So was my own beeswax for making candles and salves. Then along came The Secret Life of Bees, and the obsession solidified: I had to find a way to get a hive.

And yesterday, under the gathering gray sky, it finally happened. The bee man came with girls for my hive.

The bees came from a well-respected bee man about an hour away. His girls are chemical-free and bred to be gentle. He's also inspected by the state, ensuring scary issues like disease and the varroa mite- the believed reason for colony collapse disorder and bee shortages everywhere- will not be a problem. Hopefully. Hopefully not. I will have to stand guard.

I like Jesse because he's soft spoken and completely, bewilderingly calm, even when the bees land on his bare skin. Being near him, I wasn't afraid, either. In fact, I was enthralled. I lifted and examined the frames before installing them in my new hive. The only time the bees got agitated was when, like the klutz I am, I bumped the third frame while installing it. Jesse said nothing for a moment, then, softly, "Yeah. They don't like it when you drop them."

Can you spot the queen?

So here's my hive. These are the girls that will (literally) work themselves to death over the next several weeks building a hive, nursing brood, guarding the colony, gathering pollen and nectar, drawing out comb, and making honey. Among other things.

By twilight, right before darkness fell, the wayward bees found their way inside the new hives. I stood outside, listening. Their buzzing is hypnotic. Have you ever heard the sound coming from a beehive? It's the warmest, fullest, steadiest hum you've ever heard. Your heart hears it.

Much, much more to come on beekeeping. So much more... -Brin

In the Beeginning

Women made the best beekeepers 'cause they have a

special ability built into them to love creatures that sting. 

-Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

First off: 

1. Judge not my yard lest your yard be judged. Ahem.
And 2. I start beekeeping classes tomorrow!

Y'all. I've wanted to have bees and learn how to keep a hive for days and days and days. At first it was a fleeting fancy. Then it was a mild curiosity. Then it was a can-I-actually-do-this? Now it's almost a reality. I start classes tomorrow, finish my top bar hive in February, and hopefully get my bee colony buzzing by spring.

I'm such a nerd. An excited bee-almost-keeper nerd!

I'm nervous about starting classes tomorrow. Having already read stories about hives becoming Africanized (it's a term. Look it up.) and swarming their keepers, I'm cautiously optimistic. Will they swarm? Chase small children and dogs into bodies of water? Sting me until I'm unrecognizable? Actually produce enough honey for us to eat? I plan to raise my hand and earnestly ask each of these questions, carefully copying the answers into my bee notebook, without seeming like a total bee nerd noob.

Right. Wish me luck!

Anyone out there a beekeeper? If so, please say hello. Please.

UPDATE: Upon posting, I almost immediately got word from cool Kyle that the term is "bee-ks". Heck yeah! I'm hoping they let me in their club...