Things we know and things we don't

-Posted by Isaac

If you say that farming is a gamble, nobody will argue.

But experience helps. And knowing something definitely helps.

A few months ago I had high hopes for this now barren patch of dirt. By July I thought we’d be looking at a lush field of hay. Forage grasses mixed with yellow and white sweet clover, alfalfa soon to be blooming… nope. I sort of struck out with the planting part. The bee work got the best of April and May, and I don’t know where June went. I think I’ll blame it on the rain. And now, finally planting, Brian commented that the clover won’t even bloom until next year. Doing some further research (calling the seed guy), I discover that he’s right! I’m an idiot. (Brian, thanks for putting it in a kind way.)

An idiot hay farmer.

Live and learn, I guess. We’ll probably be buying hay this winter. Ignorance has a price.

But let’s not dwell on ignorance alone. Let’s talk about some things we know. Some things are a sure bet.

For instance, a pretty face, a sweet product, a sunny day, a popular market… chances are, you’re going to sell something. When it comes to moving the honey, I’ll put my money on Jayne.

But what about the making of honey? Never a sure thing. Bee farming, like any farming, is gambling. After 15 years, I’m not quite as ignorant as I’ve demonstrated with the hay, but I’m still learning. And every year, almost every season, I’m still surprised by something.

We’ve learned that honey will vary season to season. In this area with our three distinct honey flows, we’ve made a business out of it— Spring, Summer and Fall Harvest.

But even the seasonal nectar flows can vary year to year.

On the left is the 2018 spring honey, on the right is the beautiful 2019 stuff that just came off the hives. Why would it be so different? A better locust flow? I don’t know…

And I’ll bet the summer honey will be a little different also. I’ll bet it’s light. Last year was light. The nectar came fast and furious. It was July 1st, 94 degrees and sunny, I shook a frame and was amazed at how much the bees were suddenly bringing in.

This year on July 1st, we had nothing. The bees were pecking around the honey house, hungry and robbing anything they could find. Zero nectar out there.

This week everything changed. Like a flip of the switch, suddenly we’re in a major honey flow. (That needs an exclamation— a major honey flow!!!!)

I shook a frame on July 10th, 90 degrees and sunny:

Like a gusher…

The bees were suddenly busy, completely ignoring the sweet smell around the honey house. In fact at lunch one day, I left a load of wet extracted spring supers on the truck for 20 minutes or so.

Came back to find zero interest! No robbing at all. That’s how good this flow is. The bees are super busy.

What could it be?

Well, I could venture a guess.

Why are we suddenly seeing summer nectar in mid July when last year it was two weeks earlier? Well, I’m sure weather is a big factor, but the biggest reason, I think, is that this year our nectar source wasn’t mature on July 1st.

That’s right. The soybeans! The planting was late and sporadic this year. We’re finally seeing the first of the soybean bloom, and many fields are later still. Some will be blooming into August.

Things are looking up. I’ve been adding supers all week.

Will the girls live up to my high hopes? It’s highly dependent on heat and sunshine, but I’ll let you know by August. The vast fields and soon-to-be millions of blooms will do their part.

Never heard of soybean honey? Well 15 years ago, I hadn’t either. Once again, live and learn. In fact (much to my delight), the idea of the soybeans being a summer nectar source is still a hot debate. I’ll scroll through informational sites about honey plants and there won’t be a single mention of the lowly soybean. Is it ignorance? Or does it just not fit the narrative? Maybe the people who write this stuff don’t make a living from selling honey…

I’ve even argued with beekeepers. They’ll say, what about the clover? The bees are all over it!

And it’s true. The bees will work clover hard when it’s hot and sunny.

I love to see it. I’ve even promoted it.

Makes me think of a dark night about ten years ago when a nefarious science teacher went out and seeded a fifty pound bag of the stuff on school grounds.

(Teachers touch the lives of so many!)

Now in my retirement, it’s fun to walk over and see a job well done.

But bees working clover doesn’t automatically equal honey. The bees have been on it since May, and all through June the supers remained dry. Suddenly, this week the nectar started flowing. Coincidentally the same week the soybeans started to bloom. Hmmm…

I’m not 100% sure, but it’s more than a strong hunch, and I’m thinking those vast fields with their multimillions of blooms probably hold some nectar. I’m putting my money on the soybeans.

No wait, I told you earlier, my money’s on Jayne.

And I think I’ll keep it there. Jayne takes away some of the risk. Soaps, salves, candles, lip balms… the selling, the marketing, the smooth running of a business. Bees and honey are for gamblers. I’m happy she tolerates it.

Round 2

-Posted by Isaac

Sometimes I wish I was a dumb old cow.

They don’t seem to mind the water at all. I watched them for a while yesterday evening. It was during a short rain intermission. Post 2.2 inches, pre 1.5. We had just come back from visiting Grandma, having driven through an area that we later heard got a 5.2 inch thumping.

This gives us around six inches in two days. Pretty wet, but not near as bad as the ten inches they’ve had just a few miles west.

Tough time to be a farmer. Even a bee farmer. Even a homeowner. With record rain, hard rain, you get the unwanted nastiness— living room water damage (that will be really hard to hide from our guests.)

I guess we should’ve fixed the roof last summer…

And you get the unexpected, unwanted surprises. Eden and I have been working on a few more of these raised beds. Totally safe from flooding, right?

Sometime in the middle of the night the water came up so high in the yard, it actually grabbed one and took it for a ride. This morning we found it on the other side of the bridge, luckily caught in the trees.

Also, those trees didn’t look like that yesterday. There was so much water coming through with so much force, it basically sucked a load of soil and roots and trees right into the mire. We’ve got a mess.

About 9 pm, one of those trees got sucked in toward the power line and knocked our electric out. We had to read bedtime stories with flashlights. Then it occurred to me, my night was just beginning. No electric means no sump pump, and three plus inches of rain definitely means water in the basement. At midnight I finally gave up waiting for the electric, pulled on some gum boots, strapped on a headlamp, fired up the generator, and waded through six inches of water to find the pump. I wondered how many other poor souls were doing the same thing?

Since that little ordeal got my blood pumping, I decided to take a midnight walk, you know, see the sights. Just a quarter mile down Randle, the water was flowing like a powerful river across the road. Probably 10 feet above normal stream level. I know I’ve never seen that! And on this side, it had risen up to the hives in the yard. The field was vast lake. (Wish I had a picture for you.)

Wasn’t I just saying that we had never had water so high? Was that just two weeks ago?

First thing this morning I ran down to check on the levee hives. Good news!

They’re still there! Just as it did before, the water had made it up to the first box, but not higher. We lucked out once again. Jayne wondered whether we should go ahead and move this yard when things dry up.

I’m still thinking it over. It’s a lot of work to move a bee yard (when you’re not getting paid for it.)

Surely we’re safe now… This couldn’t possibly happen again… could it?

USA!

-Posted by Isaac

Happy birthday America!

Hope you’re having a wonderful 4th!

Like true red-blooded patriots, Eden and I tamed some wild country this week. (We did a little farming.)

There’s a weed!

It took four hours to pulverize our beautiful field and I felt guilty every second of it. A mass murderer type of guilt.

With one small decision we went from this—

To this—

It wasn’t an easy decision mind you, and before you berate me for killing a bunch of flowers, being a piss-poor bee farmer… not to mention being a piss-poor farmer farmer and trying to plant something in hot July, I’d just like to say I had my reasons.

One reason- the weeds, the marestail, the ragweed and thistle were getting out of control. So before the grain farmers around here really started talking, we basically nuked those weeds.

Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.

I’m sure by now, my piss-poor farming is something of legend.

But the more important reason- I’ve got a thousand dollars of sweet clover and alfalfa seed waiting in the barn. Planting now (with a little help from all this rain) will hopefully result in a decent fall bloom. Cross your fingers.

It was an enjoyable four hours— killing weeds, riding along with my Baby Girl, listening to podcasts. Thanks to a buddy’s recommendation, I’m suddenly into Dave Rubin and his Rubin Report. If you’ve never heard of him, as I hadn’t, check him out. A true libertarian who interviews people from all over the political spectrum.

Anyway, this morning as Mason and I loaded for deliveries, I was thinking about a particular interview.

It was with ex Navy Seal/podcaster/writer Jocko Willink.

Jocko is obviously a patriot, a military man who loves this county, but he’s got his own brand of patriotism. Far from parroting nationalism, it’s sort of a libertarian bent. Put your faith in people, not government. Governments go wrong. Just look at our own history.

Thankfully, free people, conscious, rational and sensible people can keep improving on governance and maybe even get it right.

On the way up to Columbus, I was trying to echo some of his thoughts and lay my own thoughts on Mason. Thoughts about US history, and what freedom means, about slavery, and immigration, and voting and vote suppression, wars, economy, taxes, the rich, the poor, the military, and a host of other fun topics. I wanted it to be a discussion, but as you would guess, I did most all the talking.

When we got to the stores, the subject changed. No more political-economic blather. It was all about spring honey.

I’m pretty proud of our spring honey this year (right hand). Mason helped me brag about it to anyone who happened to be within bragging distance.

We had ourselves a good time. Politics and honey on 4th of July eve. The BBC news told us over and over about the air strikes in Libya. I wonder if Mason took any of that in? I wonder if he thought about his life as compared to the lives of those poor bombed migrants. Maybe not… probably not.

At one point they had a segment about the big parade in DC tomorrow. The Trump military parade. A lady getting interviewed told of her disgust. Another man said that the holiday shouldn’t be about showing military might or polarizing the nation. Another lady said she hoped nobody attended. Mason, for whatever reason, heard this and asked, “Wait, what? Dad, what do they mean?”

“Oh, nothing, I said. Trump wants to run some tanks through the streets of Washington tomorrow. A bunch of libs are boohooing.”

“Why?”

Mason is still years away from understanding sarcasm.

But that didn’t stop me.

“I don’t know, son. They’re prissy, maybe? Maybe they hate freedom? I mean, what’s the big deal? What’s a little show of fanfare and force now and then? All through history, big, strong countries like ours have run tanks through their nation’s capital. What’s the big deal?”

He didn’t respond. Could he have detected my ruse?

“You know Mason, I guess there’s always going to be a few crybabies out there.”

Freakin’ liberals!

Let's start with the good news

-Posted by Isaac

Well, the good news is, it looks like we’ve got a few days in a row without rain.

No, wait…

One last kick in the ribs on Monday. Even on a day that promised only a 30% chance of showers, we somehow managed 1.25 inches in a single intense hour. I’m so calloused to it by now. I walked out of the honey house and thought, Is that all you got?

It was just enough to make my little duck happy.

By Wednesday we were drying out. The other ducks began to wonder about climate change… Where did all our water go?

And I could finally take a risk on doing some laundry.

If only someone would invent a machine that would sort of tumble and heat clothes at the same time. Some sort of drying machine. I could do a load more often, like once a month. Instead of once every three. Jayne would love me! …If only…

It’s beginning to feel like summer.

Here’s the good news. Remember that rescue box I put out? It functioned as a catcher of homeless bees after the raging waters took an entire yard. I’m happy to say it worked. It’s now safe on high ground at my parents’ place. Eden points it out—

It was so packed full of bees, I put another brood box on top after adding a queen. Checking back today, I found an entire frame of eggs. It’ll be a strong hive in a couple months. Yay! Salvaged one.

Thanks by the way, for all the comments and sympathies. Jayne put news of that little flood disaster on social media and it got more shares and comments than I’ve ever seen. And I have to say, it’s nice to feel loved. Even though I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt, considering the real suffering the farmers are going through. Yes, it was a shocker, and yes we felt pretty sad about it. But no, we’re not about to go out of business, as some of your comments insinuated. ;)

Nevertheless… taking advantage of our sudden internet celebrity—

Did you see the GoFundMe I started? For our recovery efforts, I mean? It’s the Honeyrun Farm Go Fund Bee: I estimate that bee yard’s value (including reparations for emotional distress) to be approximately $1,000,000

To date, we’ve raised approximately $0.

But I know your heart is in the right place. I know you want to save the bees. You’ll reconsider… do you really need to make that rent payment? Do you really need diapers for the baby this month? Please, please consider the bees. Your friends, my friends, the bees.

Ok, in other good news:

We’re still running spring honey! It’s been slightly better than I anticipated. The buckets are piling up.

We won’t be going out of business this year, if Maizy has anything to say about it.

Just look at the beautiful white flow! Delicious!

I think it’s even prettier and more translucent than last year’s spring. But maybe I’m just biased. Come check it out this Saturday. We’ll have it up at Worthington.

In other good news:

Lots of wax!

We’ll have those candles brightened up soon with some brand new cappings wax.

And in other good news:

The tulip poplar has panned out again! That’s three years in a row!

As some of you know, we keep 30-40 hives in a couple locations near the Hocking Hills. The purpose being, to produce this dark, rich and lovely varietal honey. You can’t make it here in the flatlands, it requires about an hour drive to the dark hill country.

I was happy to come home with some weight on the truck.

So there it is. The good news.

But if you’re still dwelling on the bad news, if your heart is hurting and your wallet is burning… no problem. There’s still time to donate. Honeyrun Farm Go Fund Bee.

Just contact my lawyer at: 1-800-SAUL-GOODMAN.

It’s all good, man!

On second thought, maybe 'terrible' is the word for it.

-Posted by Isaac

I have to apologize, I had such a good one planned for you— the meaning of life, the meaning of death, that sort of thing. It all began to coagulate two weeks ago on the way down to Nelsonville.

Maizy and I had such an interesting conversation. I was in a meditative state, listening to Sam Harris talk about the nature of consciousness. She barged in with her questions and boy, did we get into it. What a wave of insight. What a flood of thought.

Then, those thoughts combined with the sounds, sights and substances of the festival itself, I anticipated sharing a pretty involved blog post. I’ve been chewing on it for two weeks.

But it was all for naught. Nature had other plans this week.

No flood of deep thinking for you today.

Just a flood.

The nature of Nature.

No, that’s not the Ohio River pictured above. That’s our backyard.

Or more specifically, our buckwheat field.

You can see the high water mark on the big walnut tree. And the home hives in the distance. Yes, the water actually lapped up to the base of the hives. Higher than we’ve ever seen it since moving here in 2006.

Beehives float.

But bees drown.

We had our first flood casualties five miles down the road. A healthy, productive bee yard the day before. Now nothing. Just some bricks and concrete blocks.

16 hives down the river.

I put out a single sad box to catch the homeless. In less than a minute it was filling up.

I’ll give them a queen this afternoon. We’ll see what happens.

Even though the landowner called to tell me, it was still a shock to see that blank hole.

It happened in the night. My friend Rachel, who lives near that yard, posted her rain gauge on Facebook. Five inches!

She said she hadn’t forgotten to dump it from the previous rain. Five inches in 36 hours.

I think we’ve had four consecutive nights of rain.

The title of this post was Jayne’s idea. A play off last week’s post. Although it remains terrible for the crop farmers, it’s getting more terrible every night for the bee farmers.

(Personally, I thought a good fitting title would be: THE NIGHT IS DARK AND FULL OF TERRORS)

I listen to the pounding roof all night, wake up, look out at the river running through the yard and think, Oh man, what’ll I find today?

Somehow those hives on the levee stayed put. The landowner called to tell me the water had made it up to the bottom box before receding.

So far, no more washed out bee yards, but they’re calling for another two inches before tomorrow. Yesterday I plugged in a favorite Led Zeppelin and just drove around. The song seemed to fit the mood.

Houses under water…

Crops and forests and fields…

Pastures and fences and equipment…

The above picture is my brother’s place. He had a bunch of drowned farm equipment somewhere in that mess. And I heard the other Justin, my brother-in-law, stayed up all last night pumping water off the produce farm. (Pictured in last week’s post.) (Did I say something about their weekly disasters?)

Even Westfall Schools took a beating.

But I guess that didn’t compromise the learning. School is still a long way off.

Sometimes I wish I was a kid again.

Maybe we’ll dry out by September.

That song just gave me another good title: CRYING WON’T HELP YOU, PRAYING WON’T DO YOU NO GOOD.