Stocking Up Time

When I moved here ten years ago, there was one apple tree that never bore more than four red apples each fall. I planted two other apple trees and started keeping bees to pollinate them.

This year, the Criterion apple blossoms got nipped by frost, resulting in no baby apples. The newer Golden Delicious blossomed at the same time as the red apple. Wow, what a difference with the existing red apple crop! Both trees had lots of apples, somewhat heroic of them on account of such a dry summer. The Golden Delicious limbs were actually too young to bear such a lot of big apples. I did thin them a lot but just propped the limbs up and tried not to feel guilty as the slender things bowed under the load. When I picked the last of the apples, I believe I heard a big sigh of relief from the young tree.

Those were the best apples. The Pampered Chef peeler, corer, slicer that Lis got for me one Christmas made short work of them. The 12 dehydrator trays of slices fit nicely into 3 quart jars.

I'm just emerging from a week of making applesauce. Lissa came up on Sunday and picked the rest of the high apples for her short Mom. We made two more batches of applesauce pints, bringing the total to 47 pints, with enough left for me to finish with a batch of apple butter, now cooking down in the Crock Pot.

While we worked by the hot stove, we watched a documentary about people stranded in the woods in a spring snowstorm. We couldn't help but comment how no one in the hiking party knew how to make a fire to keep warm. Winter seems to come every year, so a little planning and effort now always seems sensible.

Last week, a bumper crop of grapes needed to be dealt with. It apparently was just a great year for grapes in these parts. For years, I've pruned the grapes in late winter and trained them up in the way they should go. They refused to stick to the script, running wild and bearing little. This year, I let that go and basically gave up on the endeavor. Molly and I noticed lots of baby grapes in springtime, but I was quite surprised to see them all mature, sometimes even growing on long, un-pruned canes under the grass that grew up around them.

So, a grape juice project was in order. The first batches I did were lots of work, crushing the grapes in the food mill, straining them and myself.

Lissa came up and showed me a much better way. Not the extra-sweet recipe I found in my old Ball Blue Book, just grapes and a little honey. Much easier, especially with Lissa's help. When they are ready, they just get strained before serving.

Yesterday promised to be the last of the 90 degree days with a blast furnace wind. I awoke to a welcome gentle rain, the first one in a month.

Now, I just have one more batch of honey to extract and then I'll put my feet up and knit!

In the winter, I'll enjoy the fruits of my labors. By then, I fully expect my hands will have recovered from days in the sink. The shriveling surely will go away by then.

Golden Days

I'm running a little late in getting the honey in. I kept waiting for some rain, but it repeatedly refused to arrive, except for a quarter inch on the day of the Eclipse. I think the bees are having a rough time of it. They seem to be in a surly mood, not their usual gentle selves at all. It must be the lack of wildflowers; I don't believe they read the political news.

Off to a great harvest, with the first 27 pounds extracted. This has been my first year to sell honey. Once folks taste it, they come back for more, quarts at a time.

There were some snags getting the first super in. The dump feature on the cart wasn't secured. Chugging away from the hive on the lawn tractor, I looked back to see the full super on the ground. Visions of broken wooden hive parts and bees zoning in on the honey enticingly oozing onto the grass swam before my eyes. Shutting down Rosie, I ran back and picked up the intact super. Breathing a big sigh of relief, I continued on to the house.

Memo to self: make sure the cart latch is secured.  Yet another thing to experience only once.

The extracting part is getting to be a smoother operation. This time, only one bee came in with the box of beautiful light honey. The next morning, I heard it flying against the window. I covered it with a glass, slipped a card between it and the bee, inverted all and let it fly away outside.

I explained to the neighbor kids that if a bee ever lands on them, it won't sting. The kids didn't believe that, probably just as well, since most folks don't know the difference between a honeybee and a Yellow Jacket.

It's amazing how many former beekeeper guys urge me to increase my operation. I had a husband who talked me into keeping more hives; I had to let him go.

One hive is my limit, so it remains a hobby that I enjoy.