Some of the fruits of our labors came together this weekend . . .
About 4:30, I sent two kids to the pasture on bikes to look for our cow, Anabelle. We were in up to our eyeballs in stacks of unextracted honey, newly extracted honey, pots, pans, machines, and instructions, but no one had seen the cow all day. Her son, Buster, left the farm a week ago and I worried she might have gone off in search of him. The kids returned without success so my husband headed out. Meanwhile, Boy one and I soldiered on in the honey business. We had gone for a lesson on honey extraction the week before, but we still had to keep stopping to look things up.
After a good long search, the cow tracker returned with a grin. Honey had to wait while we went off to see for ourselves what Anabelle had been up to out there in the bush.
Naming the calf took a few days . . . but Almond Joy she is, with promises to Girl two that she will be called Almond Joy as one name, not just Almond, with Joy as a middle name – for reasons unknown, this mattered. The birth of Almond Joy means we’ll have a second cow to breed (very good news, we think).
The honey operation that we guessed would be the work of a few hours that night took us almost eight . . . but even morning people need to stay up until midnight once in a while. A few weeks ago, we found the bee mentor I’ve been dreaming of. She is a goddess of reasonable, effective, low key beekeeping. Looking at our hives, goddess says the only thing we’ve really done wrong was use a cheaper kind of frame that the bees don’t like, otherwise things look good. (I held back just barely from throwing my arms around her neck. It helped that we were both dripping sweat like a faucet out there in the bee yard.) Thanks to goddess, Boy one and I are sticking with bees for another season at least.