I think that was a title of a TV show once upon a time. Or was it the title of a Roald Dahl short story or collection of stories, or maybe both?
An hour or so ago at about 5am I was in bed listening to the rain on the roof when the familiar sound of water overflowing the spouting and hitting the ground started outside our bedroom window. I lay listening to this for some minutes before deciding it was too much an irritation for me to bear.
So I got dressed and donned a raincoat and gumboots and with ladder and torch in hand walked along the path back of the house sloshing through water. Immediately I became aware that I needed a new pair of gumboots as water seeped into both boots and socks. I cleared the downpipe outside our bedroom of leaves, surprised at how cold the water was. This was not summer type warm rain. I went back along the house and did the downpipe at the other end near the front door, and the one on the car port.
I checked the deck on the front side of the house, those downpipes were working OK. I have gutter guard in the spouting along here which prevents the passage of leaves to the down pipe to block it. This is because water overflowing here is more serious as there's a fridge and freezer on the deck against the house and could be damaged. But it makes it a bugger of a job when it has to be cleaned out quite regularly as all the gutter guard has to be removed to get the build up up gunk out, and the gap is narrow because the roof from the deck also runs water into that spout. And it's job you have to do on a cool day or you cook on the iron roof, and a dry day or you slip over. And I have to kneel to do it and usually end up with the skin worn off my kneecaps and a few days discomfort.
The rain has stopped now, my clothes got a little wet but not enough to change, except for the socks. I just checked the rain gauge, there was 55-60ml. It started raining yesterday, lightly and intermittent. I had thought we were going to miss out this time as the showers were forecast for Saturday but didn't come. I'd seen the black cockies Friday and Saturday and heard them earlier and on Saturday I said to myself maybe they'r wrong this time. Well they were right.
I also checked the thermometer on the deck. 9 degrees Celsius. No wonder I'm cold. I refuse to turn on a heater in February, although Lib and Gord had them on yesterday. But cold or no, I'll take the rain in preference to 40C plus we could be having, and the fear of bushfires.
Surely this kills the fire season for this summer. But a heatwave might be just around the corner and March can be scorching hot and bone dry, so I guess we have to expect anything..
I'm hungry, a good cooked breakfast is a good idea, and it'll warm me up.
Monday, February 20, 2017
Saturday, February 11, 2017
Denny's Bees
I hadn't heard anything of Denny for a few years. I posted about Denny on April 1 2012, and for a year or so following that I had a fair bit of contact, helping him with his bees and talking to him on the phone and at my house where he visited to talk a few times. He was obsessed with his bees. I tried to tell him to relax about it and leave them alone, there was no need to be checking on on them all the time and worrying.
I told Denny I was going out of beekeeping. I was tired of the workload that came at inconvenient timing to me with my other commitments, and frankly the task of extracting honey when I was not geared for it was onerous and after so many years of it at weekends when I was tired and needed a rest, I had had enough.
A couple of weeks ago there was a message on my phone from a lady who sounded young asking me would I be interested in taking the honey from 3 triple beehives for a price, and what would that be? Of course I was curious and I rang back and talked to Marta who explained her father had suffered a heart attack and was in hospital waiting for bypass surgery and he was anxious about his bees. I asked how did she get on to me and it dawned that she was Denny's daughter and Denny had given her my number. I said I wanted no payment and would help gratis given the circumstances.
I arranged to go there and meet Marta and see what equipment was there in terms of replacement frames etc. I had no interest in doing the extracting, I'm well and truly over getting sticky and mucking about straining honey. Marta said she and her mother and her daughter could handle that but they couldn't get the honey from the bees, they did not know how to do it and besides that Marta was allergic to bee stings. So Saturday two weeks ago I went to Denny's place in Gembrook and met Marta and her mother Ivanna whom I remembered from my previous visits. Denny was supposed to have been operated on the day before but it was postponed and rescheduled for the next Monday.
Establishing from them that the next Saturday would be a good day for them to do the extract, I said I would come in the morning on that day and get the honey off. On the Friday night there was a phone message from Ivanna asking could we postpone it for a week, Denny was in recovery from the operation and was in a bad way and they were visiting him every day to try and lift his morale which had dived.
So we did it today instead. As I pulled in half an hour after I said I would be there a ghostly figure appeared. It was Denny. Pale and drawn and a lot thinner than I remembered him. He had the old ride on mower and trailer rigged up, loaded with boxes and frames and all sorts of unnecessary clobber and we headed to the first beehive with Marta and Ivanna following. The hive was strong and I took a box off the top quickly. Marta and I began walking to he next location and Ivanna was to drive the mower but she did not follow and we went back. The little machine would not go forward, the belt was slipping and smoke was coming out. I wen to get my van but Denny came down and told us how to get it moving- put it in reverse and go back a metre then go forward.
I drove it the couple of hundred metres past the big dam/lake to the site of the other two hives. Marta said she would sit in the shade and watch, she had lost fear of the bees watching me with the first hive noticing the bees were not aggressive and made no attempt to sting me. Just the same i was worried that an errant bee may fly into her hair and sting her, and with her allergy that was something frankly I had no desire for. Ivanna was walking around close trying to organise putting the frames of honey into plastic storage boxes with lids, a system alien to me and a little distracting, but sensible when I think about it. She had a curly head of hair and I was expecting a bee to get stuck in it at any minute and create mayhem.
Marta went off to pick blackberries and I got the honey off without incident despite the mix of replacement combs and material. All's well that ends well. Marta picked for me some lovely blackberries to take home and we took the honey back to the house. On leaving Marta was thankful to me and as we talked briefly about work; I asked what her work was. She's doing a doctorate in forensic evidence/medicine? at the coroner's court she said. Her thesis is on preventable deaths in aged care. It is no wonder I had found her a most impressive lady!
The event was a joyful one for me. I like to help people, and the experience seeing Denny and Ivanna's place was most rewarding. They have several acres planted out with all manner of trees and huge dam. A little paradise close to the heart of Gembrook but tucked away where no one would know it was there unless you were lucky like me.
I told Denny I was going out of beekeeping. I was tired of the workload that came at inconvenient timing to me with my other commitments, and frankly the task of extracting honey when I was not geared for it was onerous and after so many years of it at weekends when I was tired and needed a rest, I had had enough.
A couple of weeks ago there was a message on my phone from a lady who sounded young asking me would I be interested in taking the honey from 3 triple beehives for a price, and what would that be? Of course I was curious and I rang back and talked to Marta who explained her father had suffered a heart attack and was in hospital waiting for bypass surgery and he was anxious about his bees. I asked how did she get on to me and it dawned that she was Denny's daughter and Denny had given her my number. I said I wanted no payment and would help gratis given the circumstances.
I arranged to go there and meet Marta and see what equipment was there in terms of replacement frames etc. I had no interest in doing the extracting, I'm well and truly over getting sticky and mucking about straining honey. Marta said she and her mother and her daughter could handle that but they couldn't get the honey from the bees, they did not know how to do it and besides that Marta was allergic to bee stings. So Saturday two weeks ago I went to Denny's place in Gembrook and met Marta and her mother Ivanna whom I remembered from my previous visits. Denny was supposed to have been operated on the day before but it was postponed and rescheduled for the next Monday.
Establishing from them that the next Saturday would be a good day for them to do the extract, I said I would come in the morning on that day and get the honey off. On the Friday night there was a phone message from Ivanna asking could we postpone it for a week, Denny was in recovery from the operation and was in a bad way and they were visiting him every day to try and lift his morale which had dived.
So we did it today instead. As I pulled in half an hour after I said I would be there a ghostly figure appeared. It was Denny. Pale and drawn and a lot thinner than I remembered him. He had the old ride on mower and trailer rigged up, loaded with boxes and frames and all sorts of unnecessary clobber and we headed to the first beehive with Marta and Ivanna following. The hive was strong and I took a box off the top quickly. Marta and I began walking to he next location and Ivanna was to drive the mower but she did not follow and we went back. The little machine would not go forward, the belt was slipping and smoke was coming out. I wen to get my van but Denny came down and told us how to get it moving- put it in reverse and go back a metre then go forward.
I drove it the couple of hundred metres past the big dam/lake to the site of the other two hives. Marta said she would sit in the shade and watch, she had lost fear of the bees watching me with the first hive noticing the bees were not aggressive and made no attempt to sting me. Just the same i was worried that an errant bee may fly into her hair and sting her, and with her allergy that was something frankly I had no desire for. Ivanna was walking around close trying to organise putting the frames of honey into plastic storage boxes with lids, a system alien to me and a little distracting, but sensible when I think about it. She had a curly head of hair and I was expecting a bee to get stuck in it at any minute and create mayhem.
 |
| The beautiful dam |
The event was a joyful one for me. I like to help people, and the experience seeing Denny and Ivanna's place was most rewarding. They have several acres planted out with all manner of trees and huge dam. A little paradise close to the heart of Gembrook but tucked away where no one would know it was there unless you were lucky like me.
 |
| Lovely Marta |
Sunday, February 05, 2017
Rain
As I drove down the hill to Cockatoo on Saturday morning I saw two sets of black cockatoos along the way. These beautiful birds are harbingers of rain. They are not always around, but when they are usually there's rain to come in the next few days. I saw them on Friday too.
As I sit here now this Sunday night the rain is gentle but steady on the roof. Earlier while I was in the bath it was heavy, a right downpour, and most welcome. I had cleared the down pipes of leaves in the afternoon and I lay in the warm water loving the rain for the great benefit it brings to plants and reducing the danger of bushfire. This almost kills the fire season. Not quite dead yet, but nearly.
My black coffee is strong and bitter. The red wine is smooth and seductive. I'm filled with the joy of being alive. The roast lamb was superb. The thought of my dentist appt tomorrow at 8.30 am in Berwick does not in the least disturb me. Mathy is a brilliant man and dentist. I look forward to it.
Yesterday I checked the beehive that I have here. It had been a disaster, probably of my own fault, as had been the hive at my friend Leanne's. I meddled with them in November when I shouldn't have, with the plan of requeening by division and subsequent uniting. Conditions were bad.. it rained and drizzled and spring was a crock. The bees collapsed. My fault. If left alone they'd have been fine.
As it happened, I had a Ligurian queen coming in the post week before last. I had ordered a queen to come in November but the bad weather caused disruption to the breeder and he could not deliver. He said it would come December. It didn't. He emailed January, said his program was totally derailed by the bad weather, he could not provide me with a queen, did I want a Ligurian replacement from people on Kangaroo Island with whom he had an arrangement. Yes I emailed.
The hive here by this time was queenless for all sign, if there was a virgin or young mated queen not yet laying I could not find her. I introduced the Ligurian a week or so ago. Yesterday when I checked there was a queen laying beautifully with the young brood swimming in rich food, a great sight.
Leanne's hive is struggling still. Spotty brood pattern, lots of dead brood presumably European foulbrood. I feel I inflicted this on them by dividing them earlier and trying to requeen when conditions were bad. Stress.
Before I retire I must tell you of a good story of today. Lib went to work at 6.30am, she's doing extra shifts to fund our upcoming trip to NZ. I saw her off after doing the usual tea and toast making and fruit etc, then made a lamb casserole for the crockpot, prepared the vegies for the roast, and did the laundry and cleared the kitchen. Then I thought I'd have a little lie down for half an hour, but I fell asleep and didn't wake till 11am.
Hungry, I went to cook ham and eggs, a favourite, then realized that the dozen eggs Leanne gave me the previous day I had put on the roof of Lib's car while I went off and did something and forgot them. I rang Lib at work and left a message with a young staff member suggesting Lib check the roof of her car as I had left a dozen eggs there. If by a miracle they were still there it would be good to put them inside the car rather than risk a return with them on the roof.
Lib rang back 10 minutes later to say the eggs were intact. She must be a good driver.
As I sit here now this Sunday night the rain is gentle but steady on the roof. Earlier while I was in the bath it was heavy, a right downpour, and most welcome. I had cleared the down pipes of leaves in the afternoon and I lay in the warm water loving the rain for the great benefit it brings to plants and reducing the danger of bushfire. This almost kills the fire season. Not quite dead yet, but nearly.
My black coffee is strong and bitter. The red wine is smooth and seductive. I'm filled with the joy of being alive. The roast lamb was superb. The thought of my dentist appt tomorrow at 8.30 am in Berwick does not in the least disturb me. Mathy is a brilliant man and dentist. I look forward to it.
Yesterday I checked the beehive that I have here. It had been a disaster, probably of my own fault, as had been the hive at my friend Leanne's. I meddled with them in November when I shouldn't have, with the plan of requeening by division and subsequent uniting. Conditions were bad.. it rained and drizzled and spring was a crock. The bees collapsed. My fault. If left alone they'd have been fine.
As it happened, I had a Ligurian queen coming in the post week before last. I had ordered a queen to come in November but the bad weather caused disruption to the breeder and he could not deliver. He said it would come December. It didn't. He emailed January, said his program was totally derailed by the bad weather, he could not provide me with a queen, did I want a Ligurian replacement from people on Kangaroo Island with whom he had an arrangement. Yes I emailed.
The hive here by this time was queenless for all sign, if there was a virgin or young mated queen not yet laying I could not find her. I introduced the Ligurian a week or so ago. Yesterday when I checked there was a queen laying beautifully with the young brood swimming in rich food, a great sight.
Leanne's hive is struggling still. Spotty brood pattern, lots of dead brood presumably European foulbrood. I feel I inflicted this on them by dividing them earlier and trying to requeen when conditions were bad. Stress.
Before I retire I must tell you of a good story of today. Lib went to work at 6.30am, she's doing extra shifts to fund our upcoming trip to NZ. I saw her off after doing the usual tea and toast making and fruit etc, then made a lamb casserole for the crockpot, prepared the vegies for the roast, and did the laundry and cleared the kitchen. Then I thought I'd have a little lie down for half an hour, but I fell asleep and didn't wake till 11am.
Hungry, I went to cook ham and eggs, a favourite, then realized that the dozen eggs Leanne gave me the previous day I had put on the roof of Lib's car while I went off and did something and forgot them. I rang Lib at work and left a message with a young staff member suggesting Lib check the roof of her car as I had left a dozen eggs there. If by a miracle they were still there it would be good to put them inside the car rather than risk a return with them on the roof.
Lib rang back 10 minutes later to say the eggs were intact. She must be a good driver.
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