This is my beekeeping blog, but I'm going into winter with only 5 hives left, and barely thinking about them. So not a lot to report in that arena. I got them fed, did a flash formic treatment (I'm convinced there is no longer any other way), and they await their fate. I'll treat Jan 1, see who is alive, and proceed from there. It's been such a roller coaster, so many dead hives over the years, a great hobby, with a definite dark side. If one raised sheep, and lost 30% or more each year, in a pretty hideous way, I don't think one would keep at it. Especially as a hobbyist. Where I live, I know of no one keeping bees anymore. Not that they don't, but no one who did, whom I knew, does. Well, there is Jim, but he's down to two. Everyone else, lost them all. Year after year.
So I have a few hundred supers to junk, lots of tops and bottom boards, and the flotsam and jetsam of the craft pretty much everywhere. A slim chance I'll be back at it, though I hope so sometimes. Even my old 76 F150, still loaded with unextracted honey supers- I look at it and think: time to let it go.
There is lots that's changing- I'm realizing that this is a turning point in my life, a phase change. Liquid to solid,or liquid to gas, I don't know. But older, most certainly, more of a curmudgeon, for sure, more expectant of a major world disaster than I have ever been in my life, undoubtedly. There's nothing good about any of the modern world that I see. It's superficial, shallow, and intolerant. My people- liberals and progressives, almost more so than anyone. I want none of it. Screw AI. Like we need more intelligence? Was that ever an issue? It was a far better world when a phone had a cord and when you walked your walk with your thoughts, not ear buds or a phone. I pity anyone walking by a garden looking at their phone. Better for some, of course, more acceptance and recognition for those previously shuttered, but far out weighed by the great pressure of 9 billion people, all wanting something from someone else.
And thus to what lots of folks turned to during the pandemic, especially, for some reason, to White middle aged plus men (but not only), and that's bread making. I've made many hundreds- pushing 1000? - of loaves since then, as I feed a neighborhood. Like beekeeping, it is complex, but simple, an art, but with lots of science. Satisfying, but unpredictable- one can't master it, as "it" is nature, and nature is much more chaos than predictability.
Unlike beekeeping, failure doesn't mean any creature dies, and that t'll cost another 200 bucks to replace something. Failure can actually means success. Win-win.
I've launched into lovely whole wheat sourdoughs, and figuring out how to make them as fat and airy as white bread, as below:
Buy of course, I'm a total beginner, and the possibilities are endless, anything that has been made from dough is a candidate. A good recipe, a few tries, and it seems to fall into place. At least, enough to make it very satisfying. Here are hamburger buns from a few days ago- I give them to my teacher neighbors on request- easy to make, as satisfying as honey, or painting, or gardening, or anything that I do. Its really been a blessing and a new component in my life.
Painting, which I just mentioned, has been all my life my "true purpose". Something that I I was felt wired to do, to draw and paint, take what I saw with my eyes and put it as best I could on paper or canvas. I see some of my work, and though I know there are plenty far more skilled and devoted than I at the art, I've been happy and surprised seeing it. Not always, lots sucks over time, but its been a constant devotion and companion. Though never have I felt I had a command of it, always what was good came by accident, and never by intent.
However, looking around my studio last week, I thought: I don't do this anymore. And so I craigslisted and sold my best easel, below, to a young neon signmaker in Seattle. I'm starting a purge, as many people do, when they enter a new chapter in life, and I feel that that's happening here. I think I was frozen in being 50, and what I loved then isn't around anymore, and beekeeping and painting, as well as other things, aren't going to play a part in the next phase, which is about getting old, watching those around me get old, friends leave, etc. Sounds bleak, as it is, but I think of myself as a romantic realist. On the fence between the two, but knowing that there's a clock ticking, and a piper to pay. I don't know what's in store, maybe some small paintings of the valley, but not large ones. So goodbye easel. Make some good neon signs!
Of many ageing persons' pleasures, is one from Candide, which is tending one's garden. In the best of all possible worlds he's taught, and then in the face of dealing with the world and harsh and horrifying realities, the book ends with he and his teacher tending their garden. So as with baking, this year I've done more gardening, and I put effort into growing basil and leeks and tomatoes and garlic and learning from many I know how best to do this. Below is the result in lovely August. I'm a beginner, I know little, though my folks were great gardeners and now I wish I'd paid more attention A with breadmaking, one gets to deal with the simple formula of getting something to grow, and respecting its own needs. Yeast and flour, seeds and dirt, and both with warmth and water. Simple equation, not enough time to master, but worth the effort.
Another of this year's pleasures has been mushrooming. I only know Chantrelles for sure- but learned this year of an albino one, which I saw quite a number of. The rest I see, I pass by. But wow, these are so good. I set them in 4 cast iron pans and cook them down- water pours out of them, then boils down, and I freeze them for winter. So good!
And finally, her is my true animal friend, near me (as he is as I write) almost 24/7, this dear cat. A total wild black leopard. Yellow eyes. Loved by everyone around in my neighborhood, an independent and wild soul, a tree climber, an inspiration on how to live a calm, complete, and full life in a very small circle of the world, and enjoy the sun whenever it's out. My very good friend and teacher!
That's my "beekeeping" report- not of much use if you are a beekeeper, but mostly out to the few friends who read this from time to time. Happy Thanksgiving.
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