Monday, July 21, 2014

Catnip Honey



Gosh, it's great to have bees on the flowers once more. Bees were getting pretty scarce before I started raising them this spring. The best news is I am going to get a honey crop this year. Sometimes, the bees don't make enough honey the first year, so I am pretty excited.

For years, these catnip plants have been growing in amongst the flowers, popping up until they became nuisances. The first time I took some of the leaves into the house to look them up in Missouri Wildflowers, one of the cats streaked across the room, snatched the sprig from my hands and wrestled it to the ground. Shortly thereafter, that feline picked a fight with one of the other cats and had to be put outside. Cats on drugs are not a pretty sight.

If the plant isn't cut, the cats don't notice it. Because it blooms at a time when pretty much nothing else is flowering, I generally let it get carried away, for the sake of the wild bees. Even the one that flops over the steps to my workshop is not cut back.

My hive of bees probably made a lot of honey from the basswood tree. The buzz was they were coming and going in that direction. They were nice and gentle when I opened the hive. That's to say they pretty much ignored me.

When I had bees about thirty years ago, I had a policy of not disturbing them too much. I felt they knew what they were doing and didn't want to mess up their work to satisfy my curiosity. I'm just the colony landlord, who comes to provide syrup in early spring and additional stories for honey storage. So far, I have added two supers. I'm the super with the supers.  Like all landlords, I hope to be paid.

Catnip wasn't in the wildflowers book. The leaves are quite pungent. The flowers are teensy, with new blossoms opening each day. I have to admire the bees for their work on them, since the nectar they must get from each flower is minuscule.

The question is, will the honey be something I can only spread on toast when all the cats are out of the house?

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Cukes in a Pickle



What I hope will be just the tip of the iceburg, these quarts are the start of the pickle season. The cuke on the right hid from me and demanded a jar of its own. Five quarts so far, and many babies on the vine. I am knitting nearby, but no doubt some will elude me again.

Unlike the cucumbers, the volunteer dill beg to be picked. They are threatening to go to seed if I don't choose them. The pickle factory is ready to go into full operation as soon as I can catch the cukes.


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Monday, July 7, 2014

A Watched Cucumber





For a spell of knitting in a lawn chair in the shade, I positioned myself where I could keep an eye on the cucumbers.

Most people do not believe that cukes have a sense of humor, but that is simply a popular misconception. What they like to do is look tiny and insignificant. Then, when my back is turned, they can get too big to go in a wide-mouth jar. Sometimes they think it's funny to hide under big leaves where I can't keep track of them until it's too late to make them into pickles. It is the height of hilarity for some to get huge and yellow before I find them.

This morning, I found this little guy, who one would think could not possibly be pickle sized by tomorrow. I'm taking no chances, getting the ingredients for pickles at the ready. I have some half gallon and quart jars lined up. I don't like little dills but I do like to have more than one to a quart jar.

In 1977, an elderly couple, Marshall and Mabel Coots,  gave me their fabulous dill pickle recipe. A couple of years ago, I'm sad to say, I somehow didn't measure the salt right in some I made. Actually, it was a gross miscalculation. The pickles shriveled, and rightly so. I shall be more careful this time.

It's very exciting to have both the cukes and the dill in the same year. I let all these dill  volunteers spring up in the now-defunct strawberry patch. Contrary to popular opinion, dill have no visible risible.
   
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