More Bee Entertainments

Perhaps I've mentioned that we had two bee swarms recently. Both came from the hive on the far left, the Langstroth hive. The queen in that hive must be a baby-bee-laying machine!

For many weeks that hive has had a "beard" of extra bees hanging on the front; it's just very full, very flourishing.

After Adam got the okie-dokie to be out of his brace, he decided he'd better rob that hive of some babies, some bees, and some honey, before it swarmed yet again. So he got his bee smoker going ~

And our friend Christine came over to help. She keeps bees too.

Adam covered the hives and the humans with lots of smoke. This helps the bees leave you alone as you break into their home.

They stood behind the hives so as not to block the entrances.

The large box on top of the Langstroth was nearly empty because it had just been added recently. But the next "super" below it was loaded with honey.

Adam held a frame of honey and comb, while Christine brushed the live bees off it.

Bee comb with wax is a sticky, messy, somewhat ugly (but lovely smelling!) mass.

While Adam held the frame, Christine cut the comb out with a sharp knife and dropped it into the big bucket.

I had to leave at that point (prior engagement), but they proceeded to dig down into the bottom red box, remove a few frames of brood (babies), a couple frames of capped honey, and a lot of bees, and transfer it all neatly into the small beehive next to it -- the light brown one. Because there are babies in there, the bees that are transferred over will not abandon it and go back to the old hive. They'll stay in the new hive and "groom" one of those brood cells to be a new queen.

When I returned home Adam had placed the big bucket in the garage. We gave it a day for the honey to go to the bottom and the wax comb to float to the top. Kind of. Like I said, it's a gloopy mess, and with not a few dead bees in the mix.

This is what it looks like in the bucket. The top of the mass reached to just at the top of the letter "A" in Ale.

I collected my mason jars, my little sieve, and proceeded to let the honey drip out slowly.

And that's all there is to it, folks! Pure, from-our-yard honey. From this bucket we'll get about 20 lbs. of honey, enough to last us for the year, I hope. Not enough to sell, and Adam doesn't plan to rob any more honey from our hives until this time next year. He wants the hives to have plenty of food for the winter and to flourish.

Liquid gold ~
After we draw most of the honey from the wax, we scoop the remains out and return it to the bees. I spread it out in a box on top of the hive. They will take every drop of honey in there, and much of the wax, and reuse it in the hive. Bees are extremely efficient creatures.

 The Langstroth hive continues to flourish just as before. Adam says when he looked at the frames in the red box, he noticed that on the brood frames the bees had not places an arc of capped honey cells above the brood cells. Usually they do this to prevent the queen from laying more eggs -- she will not cross over the honey cells. So, when the "mind of the hive" decides that the big nectar flow in the spring is about over, and the queen needs to slow down baby production because nature is reducing the food supply, the bees curtail her laying.

 But our bees have not done this yet. Which means they expect a steady nectar flow to continue here for some reason. Which means more babies, more honey, and more yumminess for us.

Four jars so far, and counting.
So ... now we have four hives! Two are fairly small. That Langstroth hive, if it continues to go strong, might welcome yet another split. We'll see.

P.T. = Personal Torturer

Just kidding. We really like Adam's physical therapist -- she's fabulous. Our little town of retiree boaters, population 850, has its own health/fitness center with a physical therapy business attached. Orientalites like their water aerobics and knee replacements. They also occasionally fall down on docks and boat decks.

After the doctor took away Adam's brace and told him he could bend all he wants, his P.T. appointment last week was exciting. She made him wince by bending him to about 94º -- just a little past a right angle at the knee. Then she took him into the gym area.

He bounced his heel on a half-bouncy ball.

He enjoyed the bike machine very much; it allowed him to bend like biking with all four limbs assisting. His thigh muscle is particularly weak from disuse, and his knee is not strong enough to hold him.

It's fun to see him do things like this. He slowly rolled the ball down the wall a little, bending at the knees and trying hard to keep his weight evenly balanced between the two legs -- thus putting 50% weigh upon his bad knee. That's the maximum he's allowed to do right now, but he couldn't do it. He always leaned onto the other leg. It will take some time.

The bend:

Adam is so very eager to get better, and now he has a bit of a green light from the doctor. But 50% weight-bearing means he MUST use two crutches at all times, which hampers him from carrying much of anything. He has a small satchel for a book or two, but he can't carry containers or plates or glasses. He dislikes asking for help. But he's making progress at the fastest possible rate. Both the doctor and the P.T. gal are very pleased with him. And when I think of what he did to that knee only 2 months ago, I'm amazed also. God has healed it beautifully. Each time I changed the bandage, I placed my hands on his knee and prayed for healing. God answered those prayers and many others.

Recipe for a Good Birthday

You start with a dearly-beloved partner. He's my best friend, and he makes me giggle. Rarely in photos of him do you get to see that sneaky little grin, but there it is!

You add a great location. We went back to Beaufort for my birthday, same place as last year. Isn't this a darling boat?

A little marine eye-candy always helps ...

This beauty hails from Fairhaven, Mass.  Hmm. Speaking of Mass, I wonder ~~ do we have any other states whose names we abbreviate that way? What if we called Mississippi, Miss? Or Minnesota, Minn? Or Oregon, Or? Or Vermont, Ver? Or what would we do with all the News? Haha!

I warned Adam I would take lots of selfies. Most of them turn out rather like this one, bleh.

Along Beaufort's boardwalk, one shop rents bikes. They name them after herbs. A musical person clearly arranged this line-up.

Here are some "this year/last year" photos of Adam and me:

I clustered all those photos together so you can see what a difference a year makes. On my last birthday at the Spouter Inn Restaurant, we were just beginning our journey to better health by Cutting Back Portions. We still look like us. It's not an earth-shattering change. But if our efforts can help just one person get their life back, get mobility back, get off their meds, or simply feel better, I want to share it.

The Spouter Inn is very nice for a birthday celebration. We sat right by the water and watched boats and boaters. The early sunset was gorgeous. But I realized the menu is rather limited; I ordered exactly what I did last year because it's the only thing on the menu I found remotely appealing!

I did choose a different appetizer. Instead of bruscetta I opted for shrimp and grits, and it was yummy-good!

A warm goat cheese salad appeared before me.

Instead of last year's plateful o' prime rib, Adam got Chicken Piccata, rice, and cooked squash. And the fact that my husband ate all that squash shows me, more than anything else, that his eating habits have radically changed. He'd have curled up his lip at such food a year ago.

We made the 8:30 ferry home. It was crowded and they guided the vehicles on board and wedged us in like puzzle pieces.

We sloshed across the river by an orange sky.

That was Saturday. Anybody up for more birthday stuff? Well, here goes ....
Look who greeted me first thing on birthday morn:

Adam made my breakfast-in-bed, and Julia walked it down the hall. Adam can't carry anything much, since he's still on 2 crutches all the time. Julia made my birthday card with one of her favorite characters, Murgatroyd the Penguin.

Sunday at church we heard that the North Carolina Symphony would be giving a free concert that evening on the lawn at Tryon Palace -- yippee! Adam said we should go.

 Many people came.
We opted for two blankets for sitting, and a bread/cheese/fruit picnic. People don't eat like this, as they used to. I think it's a shame. In my old family photos from the '40s, they're always eating meals on blankets in the grass.

 The bread is a garlic/rosemary loaf made by a friend. Extra sharp cheddar and creamy Havarti were our cheeses of choice, and a Granny Smith apple -- perfect!
Julia loaned Adam her "hobo bag" purse. He can sling it over his shoulder and thus carry small things.

 He toted his iPad and my two copies of Beowulf. While waiting for the concert to begin at 7:30, he played his current favorite game, "2048" and I scribbled in Tolkien's commentary a bit more.

 The fife and drum group pleased the crowd, sounding very colonial.

 And then the symphony, conducted by their new assistant conductor. He looks young. Their regular conductor broke his leg and is out of commission.

What they played: Copeland, some new music by one of their own, and Beethoven's Fifth!

A short program, just right. I don't like indoor symphony concerts that last two-and-a-half hours, in which you are mortified if you so much as squirm in discomfort, and you receive a scowl from the musical purist next to you.
Here's a 30-second excerpt of part V by Mr. Mizesko, the symphony member -- "Lament and Finale."

The sun had sighed behind the trees, and fireflies floated in the woods.
We relaxed. Most people sat on chairs, but we couldn't carry two lawn chairs plus the food. I kept rearranging myself on the blanket, but at my new age hard earth and tree roots are no longer comfortable.

 One last selfie. I'm so thankful for him.

 A sliver of a moon~

 Ending with fireworks from the river, with many Oooos and Ahhhhs.

 New Bern's thin colonial homes look good in their evening dress.

This morning Adam said again how nice the evening was.
As the music ended, I scribbled on my program a few poetic impressions. Here they are.

Night Flights

Against a robin-egg sky at sunset
The moon cradle lay and
Trails of crossing jets and
Beethoven's agonies, moaning from
String and wood and metal,
And fingers and mouths and one baton.
Clusters of sparrows, and a lone gull.
A fireworks finale above the river,
And a thousand thousand thoughts
Drifting up from minds crowded,
Huddled, isolated.
I lie on the concert floor and
Boldly stare at a woman's profile
Until she senses me and turns.
Perhaps most lovely of all ~
A stranger captures fireflies in the wood,
And gifts them to expectant girls
Who bow over their cupped hands,
Faces full of wonder.

(copyright by author)