Preserving

Sweet Thankful, my oldest girl child, has followed her mama's red shoes when it comes to some of her interests. This summer, we put in a small potager garden, four raised beds. One bed is devoted to kitchen herbs. Rosemary, basil, sage, verbena, chamomile and thyme are growing well and spreading wide in the composted soil. Every evening, we weed, water and talk about what we plan to use our abundances for. 

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The chamomile is being harvested and laid out to dry daily. Homegrown chamomile is stronger, sweeter, more apple-y than anything I've ever purchased, and we intend to put as many blossoms by to get us through the cold winter nights that have us aching for summer. Thankful has also taken to the large mullein plant that has spread out in the old garden behind the barn. My heart nearly tears open when I see her making notes in the herb books over my desk. She harvested some of the leaves with her summer house guest, Maya, and they have hung their bunting of leaves to dry in the hall window. Yesterday, they wildcrafted flowers for tea. Thankful likes color, Maya likes order, and together, they laid their harvest out to dry.

Red Shoes

Sometimes, I get to throw on a petticoat and talk to people about historic foodways and how we used to live. I count these as my favorite days, as I can talk and talk. Even the most weathered history enthusiast cannot outlast me. Having just typed this, I realize my world is silly and small- but I wouldn't dare nor care to change a thing.

The Buzz

Spring is here. This means a ton of work is in my near future, but my very favorite bit of work is with my bees.  A few hives didn't make it through the winter- it was warm until it wasn't, and then- it really wasn't. I fear there may have been a moisture issue, and it froze them out. I have already made the steps to discourage this pattern for this year and thereafter. Earlier this week, I drove out to Kutztown, Pa to pick up some packages (screened boxes of bees), and was completely smitten with the drive. The sky was so big. These particular bees came up from Vidalia, Georgia, and I was given an onion along with my boxes of stinging cheer. This is my Christmas; I get to open this box of hope, pry open their cage, set up their home, marvel at the gentleness of a hive the has no queen to defend. No foolin', I have never been stung during the installations of many of my hives. I love having bees. This practice not only allows me the awareness of the seasons, but I feel it my responsibility to nurture this dying necessity.

I have gathered some images to share -

my young hens surveying the new tenants; a queen and her attendants in her cage; a look into the package; sugar syrup and a straggler's second chance; the queen released after a couple of days; and me, a very eager and tired beekeeper.