Honey!

It started when G came and told us his hive had yielded 4kg of honey. So far, our total yield over the last few years has been 200 gms. We would check our bees, we decided.

I spent the morning sewing a veil onto my sun hat. The next day, G came over with some clay to seal up the hive again, we cut up a cotton towel to burn for smoke, and gathered our bee-broom and knife.

G opened the hive as Mian and I hovered anxiously by. The first feeling was disappointment, the comb in front of us was empty.

 The second was concern. The back of the door was covered in what we thought was water but turned out to be some sort of transparent slime. Does anyone know what it is? I tasted it (not a good idea with an unknown substance, please don't do as I do) and it was tasteless. Will it harm the bees? Is it a mould?

and then of course, it was decision time. To take the honey or not? G sliced off the first two empty combs as I held the smoker, a plate, and a torch. The remaining combs did have honey.

We took two, and had a debate whether to take another one or not. Not, we decided and left the bees with three combs to tide them over the winter (I also feed them jaggery once all the flowers are gone).

Once that was done, G sealed up the hive again while I trundled back and forth carrying the bees that were trapped in the window to the porch.

Once that was done, I went to begin straining the honey and was startled by a rhythmic movement in the bowl. Part of the combs were brood combs. Now that was awkward. And very upsetting.

Too late to undo that.

Here is our harvest-
The honey combs

 And the unfortunate 'waste'

I will render the empty combs we removed down to beeswax and make some Christmas gifts, but the brood comb is too difficult (and yucky) to clarify properly. I will just throw those away, I am afraid.
After I separated the brood comb from the honey comb, I began to clarify the honey. And that is another story. 

A mixed bag on Saturday

Winter is supposed to be a time of rest. Instead, Mian and I find ourselves Red-Queening our way through the days, scrambling to not fall too far behind. We were travelling for the last two weeks and returned to find the persimmons clamouring for attention.And the 50Kg of Malta we had ordered arrived.  So I am now back to the relentless peeling, pulping, boiling, bottling that means winter to me.
But here is what is going on in my garden:
1. Veggies: Miraculously, we are still eating quite a bit from our garden. True, radishes seem to make up a rather large part of our diet, but did you see anything as simultaneously summery and christmassy as these tomatoes?

2. Raat Rani: Or the night-flowering jasmine. I tried and killed two plants before this one survived in a frost-protected spot. The first blossom is out, and I am in love.

3. Dianthus 'sooty': The jasmine is a surprise, the dianthus is an old reliable. It never has too many flowers, but always manages to produce a scent-filled jewel or two throughout the winter

4. Aphids: Otherwise known as the bane of my existence. I presently have them on my strawberries and my star jasmine. I spray with a mixture of soap water and neem oil, but it is another Red Queen struggle. Does anyone have any other suggestions?

5. Decisions: Here is the view from our patio where we spend most of our afternoons. I am undecided what to do about the suckers around the persimmon. One option is to remove them, of course. Then I get an open view (but lose privacy) and the tree looks pretty. The other is to just thin them out to maybe a half dozen stems and then in a few years remove the tree so that I get a multi-stemmed short persimmon tree which will be easy to harvest. What do you think? And please excuse the poor beheaded plum on the left- that was before my time, and I don't have the heart to take it out entirely

6. Dianthus Imperialis: This is the fortnight of it's glory. And what glory it is! My oldest bunch is now five years old, and for the last three years, I have been planting a stem or two every year. All for this joy.

Please do go on over to The Propagator's blog to visit other Six-on-Saturdayers!

Six things I am grateful for

I don't regret my mother's passing; she was in so much discomfort at the end that it would have been selfish to want her to stay longer. And she made it clear to her children, "Don't be angry if I leave now, I am very tired."
I regret very much not telling her enough just how central a part of my life she was, and continues to be. Nearly all my woolens have been knitted by her. And of those, there are two that are the definition of winter. Winter begins when I pull them out of the bag in which they have been carefully stored and it ends when I wash them, sun them, and  pack them away for the next seven months. And all through the cold months, they keep me feeling warm and loved.
The first is a wheat-coloured cardigan, warm and well-fitting and in a lovely colour. My knitting friends have praised it for the accuracy of its neckline (my friends give very precise compliments) but she valued it so lightly that when Madhu chewed a hole in it, Amma repaired the sweater with purple thread. Nevertheless, I wear it all day.

And then there is the bedjacket. Knowing my love for old Hollywood, Amma made this for me from a 1930s pattern. It is lacy, fluffy and exactly the sort of thing Hedy Lamarr might have worn to bed (if she had a mother who knitted). It's only after taking the photos that I realised that the camera was in black and white mode, but I kept it that way- it seems fitting.

I always told her when I wore them; but I don't think she realised just how much all the things she gave me or taught me shaped my life. I wish I had spoken my appreciation more.

And that brings me to the garden. My garden is shaped by the many many gifts friends have given me. And I tell them often, but I  have now realised that it is never often enough.
So here we go
1. Ganesh: At the four corners of our house are four honeysuckle creepers. And they give us more joy than we ever thought possible. All started from cuttings from Ganesh's house.

Besides this, he has given me cuttings of his hydrangeas, and his night jasmine.

2. Lakshmiji: When I first moved in, I praised her garden and lamented that I have a garden but nothing to fill it with. She gave me plastic shopping bags full of vinca, mexican sage, goldenrod, iris, and phlox. "These will take over your garden quickly", she said. "Don't complain when you get tired of them!" I have not reached that point yet.

3. Deepa: The first friend I made when I came here, and still the closest. It is she who gave me her lavender and her succulents, and a glorious salmon-pink rose.

4. Ann: When I grow up, I want to be her. And the many many plants she has given me remind me of that.  Here are my star jasmine and my magnolia, just to name two.

5. Michael: When we visited him in Nagaland, Michael noticed me helping myself to the grape tomatoes that grew so abundantly in his village. The day we left, he gave me a strip of cloth on which he had saved some seeds. Four years later, the Naga tomatoes are going strong and have become the tomato of choice for several homes in our village. Here they are, ripening well into winter.

6. Beth: I cannot grow basil. I don't know what it is I do, but my seeds rarely germinate. The few times they do, they bolt immediately. Beth however is our resident winter gardening genius. Ever since she learnt of my basil woes she has been supplying me with a couple of plants every year. As you see, they are still chugging along.

So many friends, so much love. Mian and I are fortunate. And I mean to tell my friends so. Much more often.

Linking this to Six-on-Saturday on The Propagator's blog. Another source of wonderful friends, support, and appreciation.