A Surprise in the Watermelon Patch

Note to self: when trying new watermelon varieties, pay attention to the pictures.

The fact is, I really didn't notice the leaves while they were growing. They didn't have watermelon  leaves, which should have been a tip-off. What I saw was lots of cute round Minnesota Midget watermelons coming on. Imagine my surprise when yesterday I found some of them had turned pale yellow. Cutting one open, I discovered cantaloupe seeds and even more surprising, orange solid flesh. Definitely not a watermelon.

This was my first year to try new early varieties of melons. In the R.H. Shumway's catalog, MN Midget Melons are described as an early heirloom variety with golden flesh, developed by the University of Minnesota in 1948. It was about time I tried them. I failed to notice that the picture was of a cantaloupe, a muskmelon, not a watermelon.

Also from Shumway's, on the page with watermelons,  were New Queen Hybrids, featuring bright orange flesh. They haven't done as well due to a crowded corner planting, next to a lot of strapping weeds and bindweed. There's only one and it isn't ready yet.

          Sweet! Minnesota Midget Melons of the Musk, not Water, variety.

These little guys are not only tasty, but quite prolific When ripe, they slip off the vine easily.

The best part of these cantaloupes  is they are not hybrid. I'm saving some seeds for next year, when they will not surprise me one bit.

More Honey

It just gets better and better.

I extracted another super, which gave me another twenty-five pounds of honey. The jars posed for this group photo. The basswood is on the right. The wildflower honey, though not quite as light, is also delicious. So far, forty-five pounds of sweetness.

The extracted frames go back to the bees to fill. Hopefully, there will be more honey to extract in the fall.

This year, they must have been working on another nectar source when the catnip was in bloom. The bees didn't say. They never tell me what they're up to. I guess it's none of my beeswax.

More Basswood Honey

The hardest thing about beekeeping, other than wearing the bee suit in the heat, is picking up the honey supers. While I was delighted that the third super was full of capped honey, my main fear was that it would be so heavy I would stagger and drop it.

Still being a short person, lifting the top super is the biggest challenge. It's about neck height. After that, the lower ones are easier. I only had to go a few steps to the cart on the ride-on mower. It wasn't like I had to carry it all the way back to the house. A few bees remained on the frames of capped honey. I brushed them out.

Of course, I always love the advice to have a separate honey house to do the extracting. That would be lovely. When I can afford to have one built, I'll get a swimming pool, too.

Coming inside, there was another moment of uncertainty. My bee hat and veil had slipped down over my eyes as I carried the full super across the living room carpet, headed for the kitchen. Peeping through the vents in the top of the plastic pith helmet, I saw one dog and one cat snoozing serenely directly in my path. For a moment, the picture of all of us lying in a tangled heap, covered with honey, flashed before my eyes. It's so hard to get honey off carpet and furry animals. My yells caused them to scurry away.

Here is the super, full of light honey. That refers to the color, not the weight of the full frames and the box itself.

After a good night's sleep, I extracted the honey. Twenty pounds of fabulous basswood honey were mine.

I knew it was basswood because I put that last super on right before the huge basswood tree was in bloom. The other frames below were full of capped wildflower honey.

Here is my pride and joy, viewed in the sunlight. Beautiful!