Deaths In The Family

So it was a warm day today, warm enough to go out without a jacket, so it was a day to inspect the bees.

One hive was a buzz, they were doing their thing of cleaning house, which means sweeping out the bees that didn't make it through the winter. The other hive all was still, which I half expected, as the lid of that hive came off one morning, and I assumed they got hit with chill (even though there was a weight on the lid).

I began to disassemble the still hive, slowly removing each layer. A few bees came over to investigate, but I assumed they were from the other hive. As I removed each layer, I discovered more and more dead bees. Now, I can't say I was really attached to them, unlike the chickens I hadn't attempted to name the bees (although a few were called Bob, Beatrice, Barney, Betty, etc. as i saw them, but they do all look pretty much alike). Taking out each frame and seeing more bees stuck to the wax cells immobile and greyish was pretty horrifying, especially as the other hive had those brownish-yellowing girls all buzzing about and doing their thing. As long as one hive survived, I will go forward and get another colony of bees as soon as the weather gets warmer. This year, I'll monitor more carefully, get better hive tops and grow from my experience. One only learns by doing, but at the expense of all those little lives, it is a karmically painful lesson.

With so much death and destruction on the planet, it almost seems foolish to be lamenting the deaths of bees -- Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iraq, the Middle East, Africa -- so many places human beings are dieing - greater tragedy. Even on an individual basis, when not factoring in the numbers of people there are many situations worth mourning more than the bees.
I walked past Lenox Hill Hospital this week, thought of poor Natasha Richardson who died there and welled up with tears. I met her once, a long time ago, and she was warm and lovely. To lose one so kind, charitable and talented is truly a great tragedy. My heart goes out to her entire family, for the loss of this irreplaceable soul on this planet.

I can buy another box of several thousand bees.

The seeds are waiting for the ground to warm up so we can start the next Spring adventure.

March Madness

Haven't blogged in a while -- life and facebook taking up too much of my time. The snow and ice have finally melted, winter is over and Mud Season has arrived. The roofer drives his truck across the side lawn and tracks so deep I could plant bowling ball sin them appear. The mud is so wet, the cats come in and soon every counter they can sneak onto reveals their fiendishness...tell-tale paw prints. Did I mention it's muddy out there? All of my black shoes are now brown shoes. The ground is so soft the back fence gate isn't holding tight in its anchor and the goat can but the door open....which means the roofer has to watch those horns and run up the ladder -- serves him right for putting those ruts in my lawn.

So the roofer starts replacing the roof: removes the asphalt shingles, removes the metal roof under them and finds the cedar shingles dating back to the 19th Century -- good-golly! He also finds that thanks to a bad repair job the back of the house has sunk 5.5 inches, and has bowed out 3 inches. So now there are chains pulling the side walls in, and an almost six inch gap between most of the first and second floors of the back of the house. (was there a budget for this job? yes, when we started). At least all of the beams have now been sistered and the back door has been replaced (3 weeks with a plywood wall in place of the back door was fun). Now all the wood siding that had to be removed has to be replaced and the last section of roof still has to be installed. As grandma would say back at the shtetl (her shtetl house was probably built after this house was) OY!

Meanwhile, I lost my key to our mailbox, but OK, we still had one key...then David goes away for a few days and takes his keys...oops, now I can't get into the mailbox, but wait! -- this is Cuddebackville/Godeffroy (yes the two towns are small enough to share a zip code) -- so I tell our letter carrier my predicament and she offers to just drop the mail off to me at work instead, it's virtually on her way home, anyway. I LOVE LIVING IN THE COUNTRY!!!

Meanwhile, it's warm enough that the chickens don't need the electric heater under their water and I just have to try to not get stuck in the mud as I walk to the barn to collect eggs each morning....Did I mention it's so muddy that our black dog has turned brown?

I am hysterically writing the historical notes for the exhibit I am curating -- the deadline looms larger than the Hollywood Hills, but isn't that appropriate as the exhibit is "The Star Is Born: The History of the Movie Star in America from Florence Lawrence and Valentino to Heath Ledger"? I'm even editing the poster copy at the same time...I need to get the walls spackled and painted, then set up the exhibit, after I'm finished putting it together (bit by bit, dot by dot -- and that is the state of the art) (5 points if you get that reference).

It's been raining, everything is wet, I feel wet to my bones, even the firewood is damp from the air, which makes for not hot fires in the stoves and mud everywhere. Have I mentioned it's muddy? I forget...must be part of my March Madness. Speaking of madness, next week is St. Patrick's Day (St. Paddy's for short, NEVER St. Patty's) and even though I will be in NYC, I promise not to drink any green beer. Maybe I'll write more on this next week if I steal a few more minutes.

Took my car to the car wash, came out nice and clean, drove three minutes, it was covered in mud...better than salt and sand, I guess. have I mentioned it's muddy out there? The mud is like sand from Coney Island, it keeps appearing in the strangest places long after you've been in the house.

To quote W. E. Coyote: "Hello, my name is Mud."