Three weeks ago, I picked up two nucleus colonies of Vermont-bred bees up near the Canadian border and installed them in my back yard. It feels good to be an actual, rather than theoretical, beekeeper again. They say every beekeeper will make every mistake possible and in that regard, I imagine I’m a prodigy, after killing off two hives last fall.
The queens seem to be laying at a happy rate and last Saturday I put second deep boxes on each hive. The weather has been a mix of sun and rain, which means water, nectar and pollen should be available. I fed the hives for the first few weeks, to help them get up to strength and I’ll be neurotically checking them as we move along.
I have yet to learn my pollen flows as thoroughly as more veteran beekeepers, but I know a few of the obvious ones. Cottonwood trees, members of the poplar family are filling the air with their seeds, borne aloft on the fluffy white sails that give the tree its common name. They’re early this year, as so many other plants have been. I expect the flights of “cotton” in the second and third weeks of June, but I started noticing them around Memorial Day this year.
Memorial Day is locally known for setting out tomatoes and snoopy gardeners will cluck at you if your plants are in either before (fear of frost) or after (fear of sloth) the holiday. I inspected the garden of my neighbors Caitlin and Jarred (this right is considered sacrosanct in the ‘hood) and saw that their tomatoes were in just at the right time and their beans look better than anyone else’s.
The lilacs bloomed early this year. We have five lilacs, two white and three, umm.. lilac. Local gardening solons advise cutting off the blossoms after they’ve died to ensure a hearty clutch next year. I’ve found this to be true and I notice as I cut away the deceased that it seems for every snipped blossom, two grow in its place. This is true for many plants and wonder if observing this phenomenon gave rise to the Greek hydra myth. (The hydra was a multi-headed snake-like monster confronted by Hercules. Every time he’d cut off a head, two would grow in its place, a problem he solved by having his nephew Iolaus burn each wound after Hercules cut off a head, thus preventing new growth – and perhaps establishing the tradition of getting the kids to help with the yard work.)
A Pileated Woodpecker has been hanging around the neighborhood the past few weeks. This species is – I think – the inspiration for Woody Woodpecker and is not to be confused with the Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker, which also has a red cap and hammers on trees with its bill, but is about the size of a cardinal. The PW, by comparison, is as big as a crow and its wings offer the same soft popping noise when it flies.
A sugar maple died several years ago and we left the trunk standing, as a trellis for wisteria and an anchor for one end of the clothesline. The woodpecker, seeking bugs, easily demolished a good portion of the trunk, leaving us impressed and a bit worried about the clothesline’s future.
The fact that one of our sugar maples died and the other looks stressed is not good news, but perhaps it’s not news at all. In April, I noted how much of a bust this year’s maple syrup season was. Now the numbers are in and production was down by half this year. My neighbor has been thinking about getting into the sugar business, but he’ll need to prepare business plans with several sets of numbers before he makes the leap.
In another update, scientists, as predicted, measured atmospheric carbon dioxide at levels above 400 parts per million in May. As I said last month, the needle is not on the high side of 400 permanently, but it will be soon and won’t come down unless we start taking overdue action – now.
Bustin’ Out All Over
Three weeks ago, I picked up two nucleus colonies of Vermont-bred bees up near the Canadian border and installed them in my back yard. It feels good to be an actual, rather than theoretical, beekeeper again. They say every beekeeper will make every mistake possible and in that regard, I imagine I’m a prodigy, after killing off two hives last fall.
The queens seem to be laying at a happy rate and last Saturday I put second deep boxes on each hive. The weather has been a mix of sun and rain, which means water, nectar and pollen should be available. I fed the hives for the first few weeks, to help them get up to strength and I’ll be neurotically checking them as we move along.
I have yet to learn my pollen flows as thoroughly as more veteran beekeepers, but I know a few of the obvious ones. Cottonwood trees, members of the poplar family are filling the air with their seeds, borne aloft on the fluffy white sails that give the tree its common name. They’re early this year, as so many other plants have been. I expect the flights of “cotton” in the second and third weeks of June, but I started noticing them around Memorial Day this year.
Memorial Day is locally known for setting out tomatoes and snoopy gardeners will cluck at you if your plants are in either before (fear of frost) or after (fear of sloth) the holiday. I inspected the garden of my neighbors Caitlin and Jarred (this right is considered sacrosanct in the ‘hood) and saw that their tomatoes were in just at the right time and their beans look better than anyone else’s.
The lilacs bloomed early this year. We have five lilacs, two white and three, umm.. lilac. Local gardening solons advise cutting off the blossoms after they’ve died to ensure a hearty clutch next year. I’ve found this to be true and I notice as I cut away the deceased that it seems for every snipped blossom, two grow in its place. This is true for many plants and wonder if observing this phenomenon gave rise to the Greek hydra myth. (The hydra was a multi-headed snake-like monster confronted by Hercules. Every time he’d cut off a head, two would grow in its place, a problem he solved by having his nephew Iolaus burn each wound after Hercules cut off a head, thus preventing new growth – and perhaps establishing the tradition of getting the kids to help with the yard work.)
A Pileated Woodpecker has been hanging around the neighborhood the past few weeks. This species is – I think – the inspiration for Woody Woodpecker and is not to be confused with the Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker, which also has a red cap and hammers on trees with its bill, but is about the size of a cardinal. The PW, by comparison, is as big as a crow and its wings offer the same soft popping noise when it flies.
A sugar maple died several years ago and we left the trunk standing, as a trellis for wisteria and an anchor for one end of the clothesline. The woodpecker, seeking bugs, easily demolished a good portion of the trunk, leaving us impressed and a bit worried about the clothesline’s future.
The fact that one of our sugar maples died and the other looks stressed is not good news, but perhaps it’s not news at all. In April, I noted how much of a bust this year’s maple syrup season was. Now the numbers are in and production was down by half this year. My neighbor has been thinking about getting into the sugar business, but he’ll need to prepare business plans with several sets of numbers before he makes the leap.
In another update, scientists, as predicted, measured atmospheric carbon dioxide at levels above 400 parts per million in May. As I said last month, the needle is not on the high side of 400 permanently, but it will be soon and won’t come down unless we start taking overdue action – now.
© Mark Floegel, 2012