Honey, honey

Apparently, Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends have become the times when we harvest honey. They are times I'm really starting to cherish.

Once we remove the part of the beehives that contains the extra honey, we take it into my parents' basement where we extract and jar it. As we do this, Pop tends to share memories of when he worked bees with his father or some other story from days gone by. We also get to sample the freshest honey ever.

As we insert each rack of honeycomb into the extractor, some of the golden goodness oozes onto the tray where we're working. Each of us takes a turn sticking our fingers into that honey, which otherwise will be washed down the drain, to sample the fresh harvest. The absolute best is when Mom emerges from her kitchen upstairs with warm homemade biscuits to eat with the surgery syrup.

It was interesting this weekend to see the difference in the color of the honey that we harvested compared to the one jar we have remaining from the Labor Day 2009 harvest. Here's the picture - the lighter colored one is the spring harvest.

Unlike chickens, where the breed determines the color of the eggs, the flowers in bloom at the time determine the color of the honey. We have been trying to remember what the bees were working to make this light honey compared to the darker fall harvest.

Spring means they largely gathered pollen from clover and persimmon trees. Last fall, we had planted some buckwheat in front of the hives specifically for the bees. That's what made the fall harvest darker. Some people don't care for the buckwheat honey, but I like it. It's got a stronger taste that is interesting to me.

The extraction process involves removing the top layer of the beehive. This requires encouraging the bees to move downstairs to the lower level of the hive. Usually, this is done by blowing smoke inside the hive with a smoker.

The upper level contains several racks of honey housed within the honeycomb. When we extract it, we use an electric, heated knife to remove the top layer of wax or caps off each side of the honeycomb. The racks are placed vertically inside the extractor. When cranked, like an old-fashioned ice cream maker, the honey flies out of the combs onto the sides of the extractor and slides down into the bottom of it. There's an opening in the bottom with a sliding door that you open to collect the extracted honey into a strainer before jarring it up.

It sounds like a complicated process, but you get into a routine and it goes pretty quickly. Plus, just when I think I've heard every old story Pop has to share, he comes out with another one.

Every time I eat a spoonful of honey, I think about the bees and the harvesting process and our time together. Like Dad, I'm finding the memories make the honey even sweeter.

Wrapped up in llama

This "skirting table" is covered with fiber - llama fur, if you will - from Eubie. We sheared Eubie about this time last year before shuttling him to his new owner, Norma, a dear friend in Virginia.

For Christmas, I spun yarn from Eubie's fiber and knit it into a shawl for Norma. Although Norma received her Christmas gift late, she bragged on it and has drummed up some business for me.

The fiber on this table is the last of the fiber we sheared off Eubie last year. The idea is that the washed fiber is spread out on the screen so most of the the short cuts and the trash fall through, leaving the good fiber suitable for spinning.

Fiber - from wool to polyester - is measured in microns. Eubie's fiber is pretty darn sweet llama fiber. Sooo soft. I'll soon be busy spinning and knitting it into another cozy wrap. The timing is just about perfect since we'll soon be visiting again for Eubie's annual shearing.

Periodically, people who raise llamas will get a call from someone who has decided to reduce their heard or can't take care of them any longer or something along those lines. We got one of those calls last year about Eubie. Norma had been talking about possibly getting a guard llama for her goats. When we received a call about someone wanting to give away a young male, we checked into it.

There are basically two types of people when it comes to llamas. Those who see them and are immediately captivated by them and those who just don't get the llama thing at all. Those who know llamas can spot a winning personality pretty easily. A winning confirmation for an excellent show llama is a different matter.

When you walk into a pasture and can wrap you arm around a llama's neck, you know you've got a special personality. With male llamas, you need to be sure that they weren't handled too much as cria. If so, they might mistake your for a llama and become difficult to handle.

We took Eubie home, sheared him and kept him about a month before taking him to his new home. He was such a charmer. It was hard to give him away.

So here I am. Getting ready to spin the rest of last year's Eubie fleece and looking forward to seeing Norma and Eubie. I'll try to get a photo of them and the shawl I knit for Norma to share after our visit.

In the meantime, if you know of anyone who needs to find a home for llama, keep the llama rescue in mind. The "Eubies" of the world need and deserve a good home.

Bees are buzzing

We went to the Yadkin County Beekeepers meeting this week. All the local bee folks are a buzz with how many new hives they're setting up this year, what's blooming and how busy the bees already are.

Our honey customers have been getting concerned about dwindling supplies from last season, so that contributes to our excitement.

Angie Hauser made a nice presentation with materials from N.C. State University that will help local beekeepers respond to "killer bee" questions that fortunately do not arise quite as often among beekeepers as spitting questions do for llama owners. (Yes, we have llamas on this farm too, as well as angora rabbits, chickens, two dogs and a crazy cat.) Put your minds at ease for the moment, there's no official record of killer bees in North Carolina.

I grew up watching my father and grandfather work bees from the safety of our house. After Pa died, Dad quit working with them. A few years ago, he came to the barn at feeding time and said he was thinking about setting up a hive of bees again.

My husband, Mark, and I told him we had some interest in bees too, and a plan was put into action. That was on a Tuesday. When I got home from work the next day, I noticed something that appeared to be a disease on my Japanese maple. A closer look revealed it was a swarm of bees. (Whew! I couldn't believe I had not noticed some kind of plant funk that could have become that large.)

I ran through the yard, as best as a woman can in heels, waving my arms at my husband who was mowing. He finally stopped to see what I was going nuts about this time. Yep, that's not a scene that's all that unusual to him (maybe we'll share more on this later). He came and admired the swarm hanging from the lower limb of this small tree.

I picked up speed again as I ran into the house to call Pop. He didn't have a hive ready, but called a neighbor who did and was willing to sell him one. Mark, Mom and I kept our eyes on the swarm as Pop went to get the hive.

It had been years since I saw someone handle bees. Dad (aka Pop) put a scrap of carpet on the ground under the swarm. Then, he put the hive on it. Using a soft bee brush, he gently brushed the swam downward near the entrance to the hive. Dad identified the queen in short order and told us if she went into the hive, we'd be good to go. In just a few minutes, the bees began to fly into the hive - following that queen. It was pretty amazing to witness.

A couple of hours later, when all the bees were cozy inside their new home, Mark and Dad transported the hive from our front yard to their new location. Dad was very pleased. He did a little jig in the front yard. It was one of those magical, unforgettable farm day memories.

First attempt at blogging. Patience please ;)