Meredith Kendall's Blog, page 40
September 22, 2014
the saga of the bees
Noticed flying critters near the door this summer. They were flying in and out, quite industriously, from a spot between the foundation and the wall. I didn't bother them and they didn't bother me.
They were small and straight, black and yellow, bee-like things. The question of their identity arose. Honeybees? Thus began the saga of the flying critters.
For two months I've been talking to and emailing beekeepers, researching online, and working with my carpenter. I became convinced they were honeybees. I couldn't bear the thought of killing them and neither could most of my friends and the beekeepers with whom I spoke. I like bees. I like my flower garden full of bees.
I saw photos online of the damage honeybees can do to walls and houses.
I couldn't find a beekeeper to come and get them. And then I did. A pleasant young man wanted them. I'd have to coordinate the bee-man and the carpenter. The carpenter to cut a hole in the wall and the bee-man to vacuum them up and take them to a new home.
The carpenter came to inspect. He measured, tapped, looked with a small flexible camera, listened with my stethoscope, and looked some more. He thought. He dodged the flying critters as he thought. He said, "I'd like to wait til November, when they die down a bit."
The bee-man said he couldn't wait til November, the bees would starve in their new home. He had to move them now to get them settled and keep them alive. The bee-man said he'd cut the hole in the wall, get the bees, and let the carpenter patch it up. Good plan.
Then I went to the Common Ground Fair. There was a beekeeper there, with a hive of honeybees. I looked at the honeybees. They didn't look anything like my flying critters. These were bigger and slower. Fuzzy. I talked to the beekeeper and said he it sounded like I had yellow jackets.
I came home and looked online again. I sprayed a few of the critters and took a close look at one. It was small, black and yellow, not fuzzy, and had 4 yellow legs. Yellow jacket.
I went out to the garden to pick beans. Something landed on a bean flower. Something fuzzy, brown and yellow: a honeybee.
Looked at my specimen again: yellow jacket.
Ok, so now I have yellow jackets in the wall of the house. Will wait til winter to cut open the wall and clean out the nest of dead insects. Will seal the hole. That's the plan.
They were small and straight, black and yellow, bee-like things. The question of their identity arose. Honeybees? Thus began the saga of the flying critters.
For two months I've been talking to and emailing beekeepers, researching online, and working with my carpenter. I became convinced they were honeybees. I couldn't bear the thought of killing them and neither could most of my friends and the beekeepers with whom I spoke. I like bees. I like my flower garden full of bees.
I saw photos online of the damage honeybees can do to walls and houses.
I couldn't find a beekeeper to come and get them. And then I did. A pleasant young man wanted them. I'd have to coordinate the bee-man and the carpenter. The carpenter to cut a hole in the wall and the bee-man to vacuum them up and take them to a new home.
The carpenter came to inspect. He measured, tapped, looked with a small flexible camera, listened with my stethoscope, and looked some more. He thought. He dodged the flying critters as he thought. He said, "I'd like to wait til November, when they die down a bit."
The bee-man said he couldn't wait til November, the bees would starve in their new home. He had to move them now to get them settled and keep them alive. The bee-man said he'd cut the hole in the wall, get the bees, and let the carpenter patch it up. Good plan.
Then I went to the Common Ground Fair. There was a beekeeper there, with a hive of honeybees. I looked at the honeybees. They didn't look anything like my flying critters. These were bigger and slower. Fuzzy. I talked to the beekeeper and said he it sounded like I had yellow jackets.
I came home and looked online again. I sprayed a few of the critters and took a close look at one. It was small, black and yellow, not fuzzy, and had 4 yellow legs. Yellow jacket.
I went out to the garden to pick beans. Something landed on a bean flower. Something fuzzy, brown and yellow: a honeybee.
Looked at my specimen again: yellow jacket.
Ok, so now I have yellow jackets in the wall of the house. Will wait til winter to cut open the wall and clean out the nest of dead insects. Will seal the hole. That's the plan.
September 21, 2014
je suis allé à la foire
Went to the fair. The Maine organic farmers and gardeners association's common ground fair.
Got there early, before it opened, and didn't mind standing in line. It was misty, it showered, it poured, it drizzled, the sun came out. We shucked our layers. I took off rain coat, fleece vest, and second shirt. The wool socks and flowered rubber boots felt good in the morning but not in the nearly 80 degree afternoon sun. Left as it closed down, almost 9 hours of fair. Could have stayed longer.
I hung out with horses and sheep. I ate a tofu and veg breakfast wrap, Indian vegies and rice, strawberry shortcake, a crab roll, maple candy, and cheesecake. I fondled fresh wool and alpaca fleeces. Watched: a woman shear a German angora rabbit, the sheepdog exhibition, and the draft horse contests. I saw gubernatorial candidate Mike Michaud and would have spoken to him but for the pouring rain in which we passed one another. He didn't have a raincoat.
My friends arrived. The sun came out. We wandered and chatted, in search of drop spindles. We searched for 3 hours. Found them and purchased one.
I bought just one fleece: black, with a long staple and lots of lanolin. I bought soap, lotion, healing salve, and an anti-inflammatory tincture.
I never made it to the Reiki tent. Went last year and shared Reiki.
Got there early, before it opened, and didn't mind standing in line. It was misty, it showered, it poured, it drizzled, the sun came out. We shucked our layers. I took off rain coat, fleece vest, and second shirt. The wool socks and flowered rubber boots felt good in the morning but not in the nearly 80 degree afternoon sun. Left as it closed down, almost 9 hours of fair. Could have stayed longer.
I hung out with horses and sheep. I ate a tofu and veg breakfast wrap, Indian vegies and rice, strawberry shortcake, a crab roll, maple candy, and cheesecake. I fondled fresh wool and alpaca fleeces. Watched: a woman shear a German angora rabbit, the sheepdog exhibition, and the draft horse contests. I saw gubernatorial candidate Mike Michaud and would have spoken to him but for the pouring rain in which we passed one another. He didn't have a raincoat.
My friends arrived. The sun came out. We wandered and chatted, in search of drop spindles. We searched for 3 hours. Found them and purchased one.
I bought just one fleece: black, with a long staple and lots of lanolin. I bought soap, lotion, healing salve, and an anti-inflammatory tincture.
I never made it to the Reiki tent. Went last year and shared Reiki.
September 20, 2014
Common Ground Fair
Spoke with a native Mainer today who'd never heard of this fair.
Thousands of people go, people from all over New England. I've been going for years and years, how many? Lots. I used to have a booth and sold there. Sold my herbal skincare products. Rosebud Botanicals, skincare products for the entire family.
My friend Vicki and I made and sold lip balm, lotion, bath salts, solid perfume, facial scrub, and toner. All natural ingredients. For the entire family.
My favorite time was first thing in the morning. I loved to hear the moos, neighs, baas, and clucks. I loved to feel the cool mist evaporate into heat. Loved to talk with people about our products.
That was long ago.
I still like to go. I wander the grounds, admiring the vegetables and gardens. Buy soap. Eat Indian food. Marvel at llamas, sink fingers into wool, sprawl on the ground with a new book.
MOFGA's CGF. Check it out.
Thousands of people go, people from all over New England. I've been going for years and years, how many? Lots. I used to have a booth and sold there. Sold my herbal skincare products. Rosebud Botanicals, skincare products for the entire family.
My friend Vicki and I made and sold lip balm, lotion, bath salts, solid perfume, facial scrub, and toner. All natural ingredients. For the entire family.
My favorite time was first thing in the morning. I loved to hear the moos, neighs, baas, and clucks. I loved to feel the cool mist evaporate into heat. Loved to talk with people about our products.
That was long ago.
I still like to go. I wander the grounds, admiring the vegetables and gardens. Buy soap. Eat Indian food. Marvel at llamas, sink fingers into wool, sprawl on the ground with a new book.
MOFGA's CGF. Check it out.
published
The Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine
http://online.liebertpub.com/doi/full/10.1089/acm.2014.5197.abstract
Found item. Published abstract of my research.
Reiki on!
http://online.liebertpub.com/doi/full/10.1089/acm.2014.5197.abstract
Found item. Published abstract of my research.
Reiki on!
September 12, 2014
cold
Cold night in the garden. Supposed to be northern lights tonight, will look later.
Everything is slower. Alive, but slower. Beans, eggplant, basil, tomatoes, and potatoes. The calendula and sunflowers are going to seed. The artichoke thrives, but does not blossom. Morning glories continue morning gloriousness. But cold nights and mornings, I shiver in my wool sweater and flipflops. September.
And so we turn to darker times, slower times. colder times.
Everything is slower. Alive, but slower. Beans, eggplant, basil, tomatoes, and potatoes. The calendula and sunflowers are going to seed. The artichoke thrives, but does not blossom. Morning glories continue morning gloriousness. But cold nights and mornings, I shiver in my wool sweater and flipflops. September.
And so we turn to darker times, slower times. colder times.
September 8, 2014
summerhouse
Pergola? Gazebo? Wooden structure with open door and lattice walls.... I don't know what to call it.
The previous owners had a hot-tub in there.
It's a nourishing space for me. I sit in a beach chair or recline in the hammock, the hammock from my wonderful son. He won it at work. It's a deluxe hammock with a metal frame.
Anyway, nourishing. I sit and absorb the garden energy. So peaceful. I watch the hummingbirds, bees, chickadees, sparrows, and doves. I admire the sunflowers, calendula, hibiscus, clouds, and grass. I see colors of yellow, white, green, blue, and purple. Morning glories climb up the lattice walls, and bloom in intense blue, purple, pink, and white. The sun shines through the green heart-shaped leaves. Bees disappear into the blossoms. They bloom in the morning and close up in the afternoon; after blooming briefly they drop to the ground, discarded bits of color.
The vegetables are behind me. Eggplant, pole beans, carrots, and artichoke. Herbs too: cilantro, coriander, and basil.
When I walk into the garden after work I feel welcomed, enveloped, enfolded, and healed. I like it at sunrise: slanted light hits the leaves and flowers. Birds flit and dive. I like it in the afternoon: I pick beans and soak up sun. I like it at sunset: dramatic summer clouds, dew, beauty.
But that structure, that building: what to call it? I call it the summerhouse. It's not a pergola- it has a roof. Not really a gazebo, it's rectangular and has walls. Lattice walls, still. It's a refuge.
The previous owners had a hot-tub in there.
It's a nourishing space for me. I sit in a beach chair or recline in the hammock, the hammock from my wonderful son. He won it at work. It's a deluxe hammock with a metal frame.
Anyway, nourishing. I sit and absorb the garden energy. So peaceful. I watch the hummingbirds, bees, chickadees, sparrows, and doves. I admire the sunflowers, calendula, hibiscus, clouds, and grass. I see colors of yellow, white, green, blue, and purple. Morning glories climb up the lattice walls, and bloom in intense blue, purple, pink, and white. The sun shines through the green heart-shaped leaves. Bees disappear into the blossoms. They bloom in the morning and close up in the afternoon; after blooming briefly they drop to the ground, discarded bits of color.
The vegetables are behind me. Eggplant, pole beans, carrots, and artichoke. Herbs too: cilantro, coriander, and basil.
When I walk into the garden after work I feel welcomed, enveloped, enfolded, and healed. I like it at sunrise: slanted light hits the leaves and flowers. Birds flit and dive. I like it in the afternoon: I pick beans and soak up sun. I like it at sunset: dramatic summer clouds, dew, beauty.
But that structure, that building: what to call it? I call it the summerhouse. It's not a pergola- it has a roof. Not really a gazebo, it's rectangular and has walls. Lattice walls, still. It's a refuge.
September 7, 2014
tired
It was a lucky day.
I drove south, to a psychic fair. Traffic, couldn't turn in where I wanted to, so proceeded to stoplight. Made the left turn, oh, a gas station, lucky. I needed gas. Got gas, noticed a screw in the left rear tire. "That can't be good," I thought.
Oh, a tire place right there beside the gas station. Lucky. Tire guy took a look. "Can't repair that. Old tire, no longer in stock, all-wheel drive... if we have to replace this tire then we have to replace all four." That sounded expensive. Four tires, $1000? "But wait, maybe it didn't go all the way through. Maybe we can just pull it out. We'll look. I'll call you."
I walked to the psychic fair. Had a reading, was told I need to play. Purchased some stones. Shared and received Reiki. Got a call, "Your car is ready. It didn't go through." Short screw. Honest tire guys. Lucky.
I drove south, to a psychic fair. Traffic, couldn't turn in where I wanted to, so proceeded to stoplight. Made the left turn, oh, a gas station, lucky. I needed gas. Got gas, noticed a screw in the left rear tire. "That can't be good," I thought.
Oh, a tire place right there beside the gas station. Lucky. Tire guy took a look. "Can't repair that. Old tire, no longer in stock, all-wheel drive... if we have to replace this tire then we have to replace all four." That sounded expensive. Four tires, $1000? "But wait, maybe it didn't go all the way through. Maybe we can just pull it out. We'll look. I'll call you."
I walked to the psychic fair. Had a reading, was told I need to play. Purchased some stones. Shared and received Reiki. Got a call, "Your car is ready. It didn't go through." Short screw. Honest tire guys. Lucky.
September 4, 2014
bee resucer
Found a beekeeper who wants the bees. Now just have to coordinate our schedules: the carpenter to cut a hole in the wall, the beekeeper, and me.
September 3, 2014
honey bees
Now those bees.
It seems as though there is a bee hive in the wall of my house. There's been a lot of activity in a spot by the door, where the foundation meets the siding. Bees.
I've been talking to beekeepers. I think they're honeybees. Honey in the walls is not good, as you can imagine. So I've been asking the bees to move out, move along, find another home. They can't stay in the walls. I asked 5 beekeepers to come and collect them. Posted messages on web pages. Emailed. No go. No beekeeper is willing to come and rescue them. So I tell the honeybees to go.
I spoke with my carpenter. He's never done this type of job, but is willing to give it a try. The honey and the bees have to come out of the wall. The carpenter will have to wiggle into a closet and cut through sheetrock.
He's a Reiki carpenter. With a Reiki Nurse wife. We have respect for all living things.
I hope the bees will move out soon. They need a better home.
It seems as though there is a bee hive in the wall of my house. There's been a lot of activity in a spot by the door, where the foundation meets the siding. Bees.
I've been talking to beekeepers. I think they're honeybees. Honey in the walls is not good, as you can imagine. So I've been asking the bees to move out, move along, find another home. They can't stay in the walls. I asked 5 beekeepers to come and collect them. Posted messages on web pages. Emailed. No go. No beekeeper is willing to come and rescue them. So I tell the honeybees to go.
I spoke with my carpenter. He's never done this type of job, but is willing to give it a try. The honey and the bees have to come out of the wall. The carpenter will have to wiggle into a closet and cut through sheetrock.
He's a Reiki carpenter. With a Reiki Nurse wife. We have respect for all living things.
I hope the bees will move out soon. They need a better home.
