Christmas 2015
Well, at long last, I have a computer that can handle the photos from the camera I got for Christmas last year. I think I will have to change things on my page so that the bigger photo files don't slow down everyone else's computers. Five years into the blog, I might just have to learn how to do this properly.
I wish you all a wonderful time today, whether celebrating Christmas or the many other holidays that hail the returning of the light to the northern half of the world. For those of you in the southern hemisphere, I hope you are enjoying a lovely summer with just enough rain to keep things growing and refreshed. Thank you for reading! |
Dec. 17, 2015
Gardeners spend a lot of energy considering frost. We get winter crops planted and sensitive plants mulched before first frost. In spring, we wait to plant our tiny seedlings until after final frost. It is a seasonal marker, not a hindrance to our growing plans.
Many tree and flower seeds need an extended period of biting cold to help them break dormancy. It isn't easy to replicate that with the fridge (especially if your family inexplicably wants room for food in there). I sometimes enjoy the mild winters we've been having, but having grown up in colder climes, I start to miss the kind of fun we had. One or two days of freezing temperatures is not enough to get a decent snow fort built and snowballs stockpiled. It is also not enough time to stimulate the renewal of life for our wild, native plants. So much is done for us in nature. Because we don't have to orchestrate or even think about it, we consider it automatic. A small but consistent temperature change in an area can threaten many plant species. We need as much reproductive success in plants as nature can muster. Ecosystems are built around that success. So much depends upon good, killing frosts. |
Dec. 12, 2015
This moth crawled out of its chrysalis somewhere in the vicinity of our carport early last June. It was walking in circles on the concrete, dragging its wings like a cloak. I moved it out to a sunny garden where it could bask for a while. It's very important in life to know how to bask properly. This circulatory system needed time to fill the wings that would help the insect fulfill its highest purpose as a moth. It couldn't do that if it continued to stumble around where it could be stepped on or easily snapped up by a passing robin. (Though feeding others is a noble calling, it doesn't leave anything to the next generation of moths.) The thought of it wearing out its wings before they were even fully formed also moved me to relocate it. Concrete chafes. I learned that while learning to ride a bicycle. The moth looked much more in its element clinging to a stem in the garden. It stopped walking around and just took up space for a while. Had I done the same, I would know how things turned out. Distracted by one task or another, I only know that it was gone by the end of the day. I like to think there are a few Yellow Bear caterpillars snoozing in the garden thanks to this moth and my timely intervention. (But there might just be one robin with the memory of indigestion.) |
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Nov. 11, 2015
Oct. 31, 2015 Festive Cats
Sept. 30, 2015
One of the most entertaining (or bothersome, if you're another insect) native bees is the wool carder bee. I'm somewhat convinced I have two species of it in my yard: the originally European Anthidium manicatum, and the much smaller native Anthidium maculosum. They both share similar behaviours, but the European ones are more aggressive.
Each male picks a patch of flowers as his territory and vigorously defends it. He spends most of his time hovering around and lining himself up with any bee that stops by for a feed. He then zooms in to grab it and wrestles it to the ground. He doesn't have a stinger, but he does have armoured spikes at the end of his abdomen that can damage any other insect he attacks. I haven't seen any injuries result from these encounters, but it can happen. The males will even hover just in front of me and stare me down if I'm hanging around with my camera. They haven't ever done their bombing run on me, but I did see one take on a queen bumble bee. It had ignored her for a long time, but she was having such a good feed he finally couldn't resist. They fell down together and she landed on him, so I suppose that would be termed a teaching moment. These bees are covered in armoured plates, so if anything was hurt it was his pride. Female wool carder bees are amazing. They feed, gather pollen, and scrape soft plant fibres into a little ball which they then carry back to nests they've built in high places. Much of the time as they are working, they are getting mounted by males who take the ability to hold on as a sign of sexual consent. I hope the drones dream of being male spiders once in a while, just to give them a sense of humility.
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Sept. 18, 2015
Every garden has work spaces that are messy and in transition. Mine has quite a few of these. This one is right beside the guest parking area, because it was the easiest place to have sand delivered while we were working on various projects. Then we needed a place to temporarily put rocks and this was convenient. It was already a pile, and we thought the rocks might keep the cats out of the sand. No such luck. The mower couldn't get over the rocks so weeds grew, much to the delight of our bees.
I have a beautiful vision for this area. There is an old wooden front door we brought from our former home, with panels that my mom and I are going to cover with mosaics incorporating the blue and white bits of china we've found while digging around the property. My dad will build a frame on which to hang the door. I bought two lovely lattices for either side of the framework. The door will stand open, with plants in front that creep around stepping stones leading through the door. Clematis varieties that the bees love will climb the lattice and there will be a big sweep of miniature cosmos behind the door. Fireweed will figure into the mix too.
Excited to start this project now that it's cooler outside, I grabbed the litterbox sifter and set about reversing the effects of cat invasion. That done, I stood back to survey my work. Then I saw her. She was flying in low circles, clutching a bright green leaf round: a leafcutter bee searching for her nest. To my dismay, she couldn't seem to find it. I must have buried the entrance, I thought. Only one rock had been shifted and that was the one she seemed focused on. I lifted it and skimmed the ground in case I could reopen the tunnel. Sand isn't that cooperative. So I positioned the rock next to its nearest neighbour, creating a shelter beneath it, then walked away. When I returned, the bee had put the leaf down somewhere and was digging like a terrier beneath the rock. I left her to it and checked back hours later. She had resumed bringing leaves to her nest and was humming merrily once more. Ah, the joy of gardening with wild bees!
But wait! How can I build my garden now? Well, it will just have to happen in stages. We can put the posts for the outer ends of the frame into the lawn on either side of the pile. We can mosaic the door in a workshop over the winter. I can start building lasagna gardens on the far side of the pile to prepare for planting. I actually have some fireweed in the lawn that would love to move into those as soon as they're done. I can also scope out another area for my "unsightly" sand and rock pile that will not be so front and center. This is obviously the type of habitat the bees are looking for, so I will try to find a match to the sun exposure and layout of this area to a more fringe part of the yard. Failing that, then I will make adjustments to its existing form, bringing in a few pots for the garden in front of the door and leaving the sand and rocks in between so that the bees can nest there as long as they wish. The leafcutter bees are some of the latest to emerge, so I've adjusted the timeline of this garden to be completed around June next year. That way I'll have no danger of disturbing the next generation before the weather is warm enough for them to thrive.
All this for one bee? Yes and no. I watched her work so hard not to abandon her nest. Knowing that, there is no way I would harm it. Plus, there are many larvae in each nest. If I saw one bee nesting there, then there are likely many species who have already finished planting their young in that pile over the summer. I saw sand wasps on the yarrow in my yard this year and many tiny digger bees all around, so I know they are nesting somewhere nearby. If I am conscientious, my idealistic bee haven garden will not undo all the beauty that this forgotten area has brought to my yard.
I have a beautiful vision for this area. There is an old wooden front door we brought from our former home, with panels that my mom and I are going to cover with mosaics incorporating the blue and white bits of china we've found while digging around the property. My dad will build a frame on which to hang the door. I bought two lovely lattices for either side of the framework. The door will stand open, with plants in front that creep around stepping stones leading through the door. Clematis varieties that the bees love will climb the lattice and there will be a big sweep of miniature cosmos behind the door. Fireweed will figure into the mix too.
Excited to start this project now that it's cooler outside, I grabbed the litterbox sifter and set about reversing the effects of cat invasion. That done, I stood back to survey my work. Then I saw her. She was flying in low circles, clutching a bright green leaf round: a leafcutter bee searching for her nest. To my dismay, she couldn't seem to find it. I must have buried the entrance, I thought. Only one rock had been shifted and that was the one she seemed focused on. I lifted it and skimmed the ground in case I could reopen the tunnel. Sand isn't that cooperative. So I positioned the rock next to its nearest neighbour, creating a shelter beneath it, then walked away. When I returned, the bee had put the leaf down somewhere and was digging like a terrier beneath the rock. I left her to it and checked back hours later. She had resumed bringing leaves to her nest and was humming merrily once more. Ah, the joy of gardening with wild bees!
But wait! How can I build my garden now? Well, it will just have to happen in stages. We can put the posts for the outer ends of the frame into the lawn on either side of the pile. We can mosaic the door in a workshop over the winter. I can start building lasagna gardens on the far side of the pile to prepare for planting. I actually have some fireweed in the lawn that would love to move into those as soon as they're done. I can also scope out another area for my "unsightly" sand and rock pile that will not be so front and center. This is obviously the type of habitat the bees are looking for, so I will try to find a match to the sun exposure and layout of this area to a more fringe part of the yard. Failing that, then I will make adjustments to its existing form, bringing in a few pots for the garden in front of the door and leaving the sand and rocks in between so that the bees can nest there as long as they wish. The leafcutter bees are some of the latest to emerge, so I've adjusted the timeline of this garden to be completed around June next year. That way I'll have no danger of disturbing the next generation before the weather is warm enough for them to thrive.
All this for one bee? Yes and no. I watched her work so hard not to abandon her nest. Knowing that, there is no way I would harm it. Plus, there are many larvae in each nest. If I saw one bee nesting there, then there are likely many species who have already finished planting their young in that pile over the summer. I saw sand wasps on the yarrow in my yard this year and many tiny digger bees all around, so I know they are nesting somewhere nearby. If I am conscientious, my idealistic bee haven garden will not undo all the beauty that this forgotten area has brought to my yard.
Sept. 8, 2015
Sedum forms a beautiful runway on which the insects strut their stuff. The honeybee works it, sipping the flowers at just the right angle to accentuate her cuteness. Bumblebees barge around with semi-restrained wagging; like puppies at obedience school graduation. Hoverflies dip and sip, flitting beyond the radar of spiders and out of the camera's crosshairs.
The gray hairstreak caterpillar, comfortable with her natural fashion sense, just balls up and snoozes in the sun. If any other bugs get too caught up in how they look, she haughtily clomps on by, flashing her bright green socks and sandals. |
Aug. 31, 2015
Sightings of the Western bumblebee increased in our yard this year. Some of the photos are a bit blurry, but thankfully these are some of the easiest bumble bees to recognize. They're gorgeous and velvety featuring black faces, golden shoulders, white abdomens and rich buzzing at about a middle "C". Just by taking an interest, they've saved my large St. John's wort patch from heavy cutbacks. I hadn't seen much bee activity on there in the past few years and was going to replace it with other flowers. That would have been a huge job, so maybe they've saved me, too. I will continue to watch for them next year and add to the patches of flowers that they love.
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Aug. 30, 2015
Happy Birthday to my wonderful grandparents. I hope you're dancing together in the afterlife.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to grow up on your farm and to explore freely among its many wild places.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to grow up on your farm and to explore freely among its many wild places.
Aug. 24, 2015 This Year's Bumblebees
August 21, 2015 When Sunflowers Rebel...
Update: Brassica Bonsai
August 5, 2015
Finally got my accidental set of brassica bonsai planted. They will have a different life than they would have if I hadn't been running in too many directions for the last few months. They will live their lives, though. I don't want to give up on them. I have seen little plants do amazing things once they get into the ground. There was a marigold seedling this year that, if it were a piglet, would have been called a runt. I planted it in a triangle with two of its burly siblings and now they are all pretty much the same size and flowering with aplomb.
Now, to the butterflies! The butterflies are helping me start to challenge some of my long-held belief systems: things that I've "known" for so long that I don't consciously remember learning them and so haven't bothered to change them. You might think that I'm lining up for the old caterpillar/butterfly transformation lesson, but no. They had to surprise me to get the cogs turning in my brain.
I've always thought I appreciated butterflies, but I didn't give them enough credit. I thought their wings were decorative and lovely but that they left the creatures pretty much at the mercy of the wind. In a much earlier post I mentioned a pair of butterflies I once watched defy a beach wind and its accompanying barrage of sand in order to orbit one another. It seemed like magic at the time.
The swallowtail butterfly on the Sweet Williams (in the last post) got me to accept that there is a strong will and keen understanding of surroundings going on beneath the beautiful façade.
I had been watching bees all spring with no doubt that they knew exactly where they were in relation to things. Then, as I thought luck would have it, a swallowtail stumbled onto these flowers. I grabbed my newer camera (which is amazing but too swanky to work with this old computer) and took several photos of it. After a few sips, it would startle and leap into an upward spiral of flight then zoom out beyond the hedge, never to be seen again, or so I thought. Next thing I knew it would reappear above and behind me then stoop almost like a falcon back onto the flowers for another drink. I realized I'd been giving it about as much credit as I give a fallen leaf being blown by the wind.
There is no random chance in the butterfly world. They navigate with extreme olfactory powers and also see in the UV spectrum. I had the chance to grab my old camera and take a few photos to post here as the swallowtail repeated the pattern of feast and flight, always returning to sip from the next best bloom. Another individual found the butterfly bush blooming a couple of weeks later and repeated the performance. Just yesterday, I watched a leafcutter bee chase a swallowtail away from the blooms. The butterfly was quite capable of staying ahead of the bee, and of being brave enough to circle around and feed again.
Now, to the butterflies! The butterflies are helping me start to challenge some of my long-held belief systems: things that I've "known" for so long that I don't consciously remember learning them and so haven't bothered to change them. You might think that I'm lining up for the old caterpillar/butterfly transformation lesson, but no. They had to surprise me to get the cogs turning in my brain.
I've always thought I appreciated butterflies, but I didn't give them enough credit. I thought their wings were decorative and lovely but that they left the creatures pretty much at the mercy of the wind. In a much earlier post I mentioned a pair of butterflies I once watched defy a beach wind and its accompanying barrage of sand in order to orbit one another. It seemed like magic at the time.
The swallowtail butterfly on the Sweet Williams (in the last post) got me to accept that there is a strong will and keen understanding of surroundings going on beneath the beautiful façade.
I had been watching bees all spring with no doubt that they knew exactly where they were in relation to things. Then, as I thought luck would have it, a swallowtail stumbled onto these flowers. I grabbed my newer camera (which is amazing but too swanky to work with this old computer) and took several photos of it. After a few sips, it would startle and leap into an upward spiral of flight then zoom out beyond the hedge, never to be seen again, or so I thought. Next thing I knew it would reappear above and behind me then stoop almost like a falcon back onto the flowers for another drink. I realized I'd been giving it about as much credit as I give a fallen leaf being blown by the wind.
There is no random chance in the butterfly world. They navigate with extreme olfactory powers and also see in the UV spectrum. I had the chance to grab my old camera and take a few photos to post here as the swallowtail repeated the pattern of feast and flight, always returning to sip from the next best bloom. Another individual found the butterfly bush blooming a couple of weeks later and repeated the performance. Just yesterday, I watched a leafcutter bee chase a swallowtail away from the blooms. The butterfly was quite capable of staying ahead of the bee, and of being brave enough to circle around and feed again.
June 20, 2015
It's diva season! I have so many concerts to sing this weekend that I might forget how it feels to wear my gardening clothes. I have more to say about the butterflies flitting around the yard, but it will have to wait until I have time to sit with my thoughts. My spare time has gone into tending all the little plants and trying to get all the dahlias into the ground. There is still a line-up of brassicas that might be stunted even if I do get them tucked into the garden. After they are suitably situated, I will catch up with some blogging.
June 5, 2015 Peak Poppy Season
May 20, 2015
I've been planting native plants beneath the apple tree. There was a church plant sale nearby. When I got home I unloaded several potted plants into our carport. The bumble bees flew straight over to the camas and said, "Bartender, make it a double."
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Last year's great camas welcomed the company in the garden. Its beautiful flower stalk was right in the path of this year's deer trail through our yard, so I rigged a dome of fencing around the plants.
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The bees managed to find their way in. The chocolate lily got its own fence of bamboo stakes, which kept the rabbits circling. The shooting stars played it cool next to a foxglove. Nobody noticed.
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May 5, 2015
At last, the bumble bee numbers are increasing in my yard. I suspect there are better sources nearby of early-flowering plants, because it isn't until many things are really starting to pop out here that the bees move in.
The smaller wild bees are all over this year's patches of forget-me-not. I have built one garden for strawberries along the blueberry fence with a wood chip path on it that is quite popular with deer. They have been carefully pruning a few strawberry plants in the wee hours of each day, leaving the odd hoof print and manure pile. I might make a lean-to fence, but for now there's enough to share. This morning I noticed a wild rabbit diving into a grassy area beside the veggie garden fence. It hopped out after a minute and sat beneath the apple tree, cleaning its whiskers. It spooked again and dove back into the same area of grass. A few seconds later it was back to grazing on weeds. Another rabbit joined it and they were soon chasing each other around the yard. When they left, I checked out the patch of tall grass and saw a lovely tunnel. I suspect there will be babies soon, and predators. My cats are being kept inside right now because the little wrens hatched in my mason bee box and I want the parents to be as safe as possible as they bring food to the nest. Small birds are stealthy parents and make really quiet babies. I haven't got any good pictures of them, as I don't want to draw attention to the site or disturb them in any way. The crows watch me very closely these days to see what I am noticing. I distract them by filling the birdbath. |
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April 10, 2015
I thoroughly enjoyed the forest by the river the other day. Such an amazing world we have! Everything working together without any gardeners' intrusions. You want pruning? Here's a windstorm. Too cold? Here's a sunbeam. Thirsty? Sudden rain. We can simplify our way of life.
Emulate the forest. Its secret is layers and layers of undisturbed ground. Fallen trees and limbs, overgrown with moss, create shelter for so many creatures. Why do our yards have to look so tidy? There is no real benefit in a perfect, poisonous lawn. Creatively chaotic is the way of the forest but somehow there is a beautiful order about it all. So many possibilities -- so much life!
I still like flower gardens, but they're at their best when they're feral and bee-full. Having seen the land wild -- the way it once was -- I can envision my yard supporting many species, as is in its nature to do. My job is to support my yard and balance our needs with its. I am adding native plants that used to thrive here before any building was done. They are starting out under the apple tree, near the veggie garden, but they will increase their range and thrive here again.
With the plants will come the many life forms that make a natural community self-sustaining -- the insects, arachnids, reptiles, amphibians, birds, mammals, fungus (and maybe fish, if I ever build a pond). All have a purpose, and present their own challenges to my ingrained facade of control over my environment. There is a beautiful surrender of this in a lyric from a song called Pemulwuy that I learned in choir last autumn: We don't own the land; we just belong.
Emulate the forest. Its secret is layers and layers of undisturbed ground. Fallen trees and limbs, overgrown with moss, create shelter for so many creatures. Why do our yards have to look so tidy? There is no real benefit in a perfect, poisonous lawn. Creatively chaotic is the way of the forest but somehow there is a beautiful order about it all. So many possibilities -- so much life!
I still like flower gardens, but they're at their best when they're feral and bee-full. Having seen the land wild -- the way it once was -- I can envision my yard supporting many species, as is in its nature to do. My job is to support my yard and balance our needs with its. I am adding native plants that used to thrive here before any building was done. They are starting out under the apple tree, near the veggie garden, but they will increase their range and thrive here again.
With the plants will come the many life forms that make a natural community self-sustaining -- the insects, arachnids, reptiles, amphibians, birds, mammals, fungus (and maybe fish, if I ever build a pond). All have a purpose, and present their own challenges to my ingrained facade of control over my environment. There is a beautiful surrender of this in a lyric from a song called Pemulwuy that I learned in choir last autumn: We don't own the land; we just belong.
April 3, 2015
Some of my cocoons were either gobbled up or covered over by the Bewick's wrens who moved into my new mason bee box one weekend. I picked up the cocoons that were scattered on the ground below and moved them back to the attic of the older bee boxes to hatch in relative peace.
The back porch is a hub of activity on warm days right now. The mason bee choir makes a lovely drone, punctuated by the frantic buzzy solos of the bees shedding pollen in the nesting tubes. Our spring flowers are getting lots of attention. There is a chance that the wrens have left this nest in favour of one of their other chosen spots. Apparently they will make several dummy nests to mislead predators. I did see one of them sneaking out of the box a few days ago, though. Once they started building, I left out a bundle of horse hair for them. They accepted it graciously. I look forward to wren-lets. |
March 23, 2015
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I'm hoping for queen bumblebees to move into the nest boxes I've set up for them. So far I've had a Bombus melanopygus basking on the modified chickadee box, but she didn't set up house there. The bigger bee box is one that was unoccupied last year, so no worries about any diseases or mites passing on from one year to the next.
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Update: March 13, 2015 -- Look who's hatching now!
March 10, 2015
It's hard to get to the computer when there is much to do outside. I am the Welcome Wagon for Wild Bees. My mason bees haven't emerged yet, but I checked out their tubes. (Admittedly, it's a bit on the late side to start peeking.) The parasitic wasps I saw hanging around the boxes last August were quite successful with their breeding. They crawled along many of the tubes, piercing through the cardboard and cocoons and laying their eggs in the live bees. I took apart all of the tubes that had been punctured, cleaning and saving any unblemished cocoons.
There were quite a few wasp larvae still crawling around in there, so I gathered all the leftover cardboard, mud and leavings into a paper bag. As a bit of divine intervention, I will be burning the bag so my mason bee boxes aren't overwhelmed with last year's reproductive success of these tiny wasps.
I'm sure there will be more wasps around this year, but I've bought thicker cardboard tubes, which seemed to protect the young in my newer box (or maybe it was the nearby convenience of the thinner tubes that kept them safe). Apparently, covering the boxes with fine mesh bags in July can also cut the losses. I don't mind losing a few bees to predators. A woodpecker or wren uncapped a few tubes this year and slurped up some cocoons while I wasn't looking. However, when a parasite takes out a third of my little wards, I feel justified in its culling.
There were quite a few wasp larvae still crawling around in there, so I gathered all the leftover cardboard, mud and leavings into a paper bag. As a bit of divine intervention, I will be burning the bag so my mason bee boxes aren't overwhelmed with last year's reproductive success of these tiny wasps.
I'm sure there will be more wasps around this year, but I've bought thicker cardboard tubes, which seemed to protect the young in my newer box (or maybe it was the nearby convenience of the thinner tubes that kept them safe). Apparently, covering the boxes with fine mesh bags in July can also cut the losses. I don't mind losing a few bees to predators. A woodpecker or wren uncapped a few tubes this year and slurped up some cocoons while I wasn't looking. However, when a parasite takes out a third of my little wards, I feel justified in its culling.
This is the first time I've unwrapped the tubes, as I'm just learning about the winter care of mason bees. I figured it was better to let things unfold naturally and learn a little at a time. The wasps have helped me to step up the pace. I was surprised how much mold grows inside the tubes. I gently scraped the feces and mold off the cocoons with the edge of a knife. Then I placed the relatively clean cocoons into a ventilated plastic box lined with a layer of sponge on top of a moisture-absorbent pad. After adding a tablespoon of water to the box, I put it in our fridge.
Later, I watched a Youtube video on how to clean mason bee cocoons: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMQGy7VnwAs . I was surprised that they can withstand a bleach solution. I'm not trying that with these ones, as I may have scraped off some of the silk that protects them from the process.
Next year's hatchlings will get the royal treatment. Though I wonder about the purpose of the grubby tubes. Scientists have been discovering that certain types of fungus protect bees from viruses. If mason bees have to chew through mold on their way out, maybe it is meant to be a sort of inoculation. None of the fully wild ones take bleach baths. We must be careful to balance our care so we don't weaken the species. That said, if there is an infestation of mites, washing the cocoons will wipe it out.
Later, I watched a Youtube video on how to clean mason bee cocoons: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMQGy7VnwAs . I was surprised that they can withstand a bleach solution. I'm not trying that with these ones, as I may have scraped off some of the silk that protects them from the process.
Next year's hatchlings will get the royal treatment. Though I wonder about the purpose of the grubby tubes. Scientists have been discovering that certain types of fungus protect bees from viruses. If mason bees have to chew through mold on their way out, maybe it is meant to be a sort of inoculation. None of the fully wild ones take bleach baths. We must be careful to balance our care so we don't weaken the species. That said, if there is an infestation of mites, washing the cocoons will wipe it out.
As for when to take the cocoons out of the fridge, I still have a few tubes without wasp damage outside in the attics of the bee houses. When the mason bees start emerging from those, I will bring the cocoons outside. There are fresh tubes installed in the boxes and plenty of mud nearby, so all is ready for the big day. Everything seemed to happen about a month early this year, but not these bees. For the last two years, they started crawling out on March 31st, so we'll see if that date holds true. It is unlikely I will have to add another tablespoon of water to the box after a month of refrigeration. They'll be out in the world by then, pollinating the apple blossoms and whatever other delicacies are open at the time.
Feb. 17, 2015
Feb. 2, 2015
Welcome to any new visitors to these pages. It is a new year and I have created a new page for you to land on. As you can see, there isn't much on it yet. The queen bees are all sleeping, so I haven't been stalking them with my camera. They won't be asleep much longer if the crocuses and snowdrops are to be believed.
Please feel free to click on the different Archives pages at the top of the screen, just below the picture of the fence. (I took that picture two and a half years ago on the land that was once my grandparents' farm. My grandpa didn't like fixing the fences, but it's one of the only signs left of all the work he did there.) Each page starts at the end of its year and you can scroll down through the photos and entries all the way to beginning of that year. There is plenty to see. Thank you for popping in. |
Here is the view from our yard last week. The sunsets are getting later. Evening is almost in the evening now! |
Jan. 30, 2015
We make so many connections each day. When I saw these tiny webs in the yew tree, I thought of how these connections form the fabric of our lives. Family and friends shape life, as do our own choices. When our web is anchored to something vast and real, such as nature's rhythm, it can only be beautiful. Nature at this time of year encompasses death, which holds the seeds of renewal. There is sadness and promise. I have a friend who has passed over this month, a friend at the threshold, and a friend who has finished treatment for brain cancer and has been given the all clear. Shape shifts often in the fabric of my life, but I know that the people I love are only a thought away at any time. No one is lost, but I sure miss them when they go.
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New Year 2015
Orchids are unfolding. Each new flower is a gift that opens itself. Hummingbirds peek in the window at the fresh flowers. They must miss the summer spice of nasturtium and the buttery sip of sunflower. With the warm weather, my garden has managed a continuous bloom over the past year. The heather and rosemary are flowering now but nectar is slow. Hummingbird feeders are still the main source of aerial ballet. There is a strong possibility of snowfall to mirror the orchid dance in the bay window. |