Redistribution of Honey

Yesterday, I suited up and went out to harvest myself some honey.  We have four hives.  One is established, and had 2 extra honey supers, one is just kicking butt and has one extra super, one has just the right amount, and the new swarm doesn't even have a full set of frames.  So, having read (and absorbed) one whole beekeeping book so far, I had a plan.  The two extra supers would be removed from the established hive (called Drones Club), and I would give one of them to the newest hive.  I read about that, see, and my friend Damian confirmed it.  The other set of frames would be taken as rent payment.

I found that one of the extra supers wasn't quite full, so I took 5 frames for us, smoked and brushed most of the bees off, and put them on the porch.  The next super down was REALLY HEAVY, and very full of bees.  I set that on a wagon, smoked it a bunch, and wheeled it a distance from the hive, hoping the bees would evacuated back to the safety of their condo.

Then, I went to check on the other bees.  The thriving hive had barely started filling that extra super, so I left it, wondering if I should remove it so that it will be easier to keep their hive warm as temps cool.  And then I decided I should find the queen of the new hive, which is something I heard beekeepers do regularly.  After all that book learnin', I felt like a dope because I searched every frame without finding her.  As a matter of fact, I have yet to locate a queen in any of our hives.

After that, I had to start making dinner and being a responsible parent, so I left off beekeeping for the night.

This morning, I covered my kitchen in newspaper, because last year, I covered it in honey instead, and our feet made shlupping sounds when we walked for at least a month.  I heated a pot of water to keep my capping knife in and set up three big bowls for separating honey and wax.

Bowl of mostly wax, bowl of mostly honey, naked frames, etc.

Last year, it took me three days to process the honey - though there were more frames because a hive was invaded by yellow jackets and the bees disappeared.  I had honey in my hair, on my face, and covering anything I had touched.  It was on every knob, button, handle, the phone, the toilet...  This year, I managed to remove all of the honey, preserving the frames, in just a few hours.  And I stayed clean!  Most of this is just experience, having everything assembled ahead of time so I don't have to rifle through cupboards with a dripping honey frame in my hand.

One nifty tip I learned from that book is the bees will do a lot of the clean up for me.  I put the empty frames back into the hive and set my honey and wax covered dishes outside, and the bees raced over to gorge themselves.

Bees washing up my dishes

When I went back a couple of hours later, everything was clean!

This bowl was covered in honey just a bit earlier.

Once the wax and honey are removed from the frames, the next step is to separate them from each other.  Some people use cheesecloth, and they probably do a better job, but I used a fine sieve, and found it to be satisfactory.  I don't mind some fine wax particles in my honey.

While I was doing all of this, the bees could smell the honey through my screen door.  They came in droves, buzzing loudly, saying, "Hey you big, doughy human!  Give us back our honey!"  Feeling guilty, I shut the door so that I couldn't hear them.  It's not stealing anyway.  It's redistribution.

Meanwhile, I had the front door open, and the smarter bees found their way around the house and started coming in before I realized what was happening.  They seriously wanted their honey back.  It took some time just to carefully remove each bee and put them back outside, and I'm still finding them here and there.  They were completely peaceful, though.  No stings.

By the end of the day, I had over a gallon and a half of delicious raw honey. Not bad.

Side note: That Damian friend I referred to earlier has a beekeeping/honey business in Portland, OR that is quickly becoming famous.  Watch for him on Bizarre Foods.  The brand is Bee Local Honey, and he keeps hives throughout Portland.  Each neighborhood has its own flavor - a great concept.

Good Friends

Even though I'm generally hermit-like, I have a lot of friends.  Not only do I have a lot of friends, but my friends are amazing people. I check facebook daily, and it is inspiring for me to see the art being made, poetry being written, beer being brewed, gardens flourishing, witticisms exchanged, smart political commentary, and most of all, the adventures being had.  Sometimes I wonder, "How did I collect so many fantastic people?"

The other day, an acquaintance and colleague, Laurel True, posted a simple line: I love my life.

Laurel spends much of her time in Haiti, creating community through mosaic, and fundraising to bring much-needed supplies to this poverty-stricken island.  She has been in Haiti during hurricane Isaac, which hit hard.  Her statement summed up the thing so many of my friends have in common, which is an ability to roll with adversity and to turn it into something powerful.

My friends are doing things like parenting children with autism, going back to college, juggling work with art and family, lacking health insurance, going through divorce, and suffering serious health problems, just like everyone else.  And they get frustrated and angry.  The thing that impresses me is that each of them comes out the other side, every time, better than before.  My recently divorced women friends, now rendered single moms, are taking advantage of their new freedom by learning extreme sports and going on beautiful hikes and blossoming, and their kids are watching (and participating.)  One of my friends is suffering a debilitating and mysterious disease that seems to shut her body down.  Sometimes, she can't use her hands.  When I see her, she has a cane, and has needed a wheelchair.  She can't hold a job right now.  Instead, she is just being downright fabulous - not that she wasn't before.  She was.  But, in the face of this enigmatic illness, she sings in a band and makes art and keeps a blog and has the best sense of humor of anyone I know.

Three of my friends have lost their children.  I can't imagine it.  How does a person go through such a loss and still find beauty in the world?  But these three all radiate goodwill and strength and a sense that life is precious.  They live with their loss every day, they keep smiling, and they give the best hugs.

One of my friends was in a coma for 5 weeks due to a massive stroke suffered during an operation.  He has mostly recovered and is writing a novel based on intense lucid dreams he had while unconscious.  He could feel sorry for himself, but he's utterly grateful for his second chance, and his appreciation for life, family and friends is contagious.

Most of my friends have less dramatic stories, but are just as inspiring, like Damian, who quit his social work job to start a beekeeping company that is quickly becoming very successful.  Or Janice, who creates multi-story felt installations in museums.  At any given time, I have friends hiking to mountain peaks, kayaking in the Puget Sound, organizing for civil rights, traveling to distant countries, growing things, creating things, educating people, and basically making the world a better place.

My friends are creative, proactive, joyful, funny, ethical, political, smart, courageous, and unconventional.  They see the abundance in their lives more than the deficits.  They take opportunities when they come, rather than shrinking from risks.  They follow their passions, even when it is scary.  Being part of such a community is like being on a trampoline.  If you've ever jumped on a trampoline with multiple people, you have experienced the sensation of being lofted much higher when several people synchronize their jumps than when you jump alone.  I feel like all of my friends and I are jumping together, and it's fantastic.

Just a few of my friends:
Janice Arnold
Bee Local Honey
Bat Country
Tune Stranglers
Bil Fleming
Sarah Utter
Laurel True
Seattle Mosaic Arts
bronwynswheelhouse.blogspot.com/
Vermont Youth Conservation Corps
Ride for MS
Ruby ReUsable

Drones Club: Closed for Winter

Today, while walking around the garden, I noticed unusual activity at the entrance to one of our hives.  There appeared to be some kind of battle between larger bees and smaller bees, so I put on my bee suit to take a closer look without becoming an unwilling participant.

The ultimate battle of the sexes.

Luckily, I just finished reading "Honeybee; Lessons from an Accidental Beekeeper" and I soon realized what was going on.  The larger bees are drones and the smaller are worker bees, and this hive is expelling the poor drones to prepare for winter.  Tragically, the male bees, being nearly useless to the rest of the hive, are kicked out each year to die of cold and starvation.  The females slowly group together in a tight cluster, which they keep at 95 degrees Fahrenheit through the cold weather.

Looking at the ground in front of the hive entrance, I could see that this hive has been driving out their drones for a little while, as it was littered with little male bee corpses.

RIP little drones...

I opened the hive to see if there were any other clues to be found inside.  This hive is doing very well, with far more honey-laden frames than they need to make it through winter.

This hive is in the perennial garden, with a big raspberry patch on one side, lemon balm in front, a large bed full of sea holly, and a huge cottage garden beyond those, including borage, lavender, and calendula.  Ironically, this hive is named "Drones' Club."

While I was suited up, I thought I'd check the hives in the veggie garden, though I had just been out there and everything looked normal.  The entrances of those three hives appeared normal, but on closer inspection, I could see that they were also beginning to push out some drones.

You can see a worker bee beating on a drone right at the top of the entrance.

I guess this means it's time to think about harvesting honey, feeding some bee supplements, and keeping an eye on things while they hunker down for the winter months.  And it also means the end of summer for me.  School starts in two days, and I should probably focus on getting my own house in order.  Time to have the chimney cleaned and make sure the generator is working.

Now, if only my tomatoes would ripen.

Mosaic Conference Coming to Tacoma in 2013

I joined the Society of American Mosaic Artists sometime around 2007, I think, mainly to affirm for myself that I was a serious mosaic artist, intent on becoming proficient in the medium.  I received a newsletter with tips and articles, and watched with envy as a conference was planned each year and SAMA members in our yahoo group connected to share hotel rooms and got excited about the workshops and presentations.  There was always a lot of excitement around the conference, but with a small child at home and being financially strapped, I couldn't even consider attending.

An example of "crafty" mosaic - the sort of thing I made in 2009.

But, when the conference took place in San Diego in 2009, I was completing a large commission for an elementary school, and my husband's family was in SoCal, so we decided to make it into a family vacation.  The three of us flew to San Diego, stayed at the fancy conference hotel, and I had a mind-blowing experience while our family had a blast in and around the city.

That first year, the only person I knew at the conference was Kelley Knickerbocker, Seattle-based mosaic artist extraordinaire.  I am very shy, so I spent a lot of time alone, writing in my sketchbook, recording all of my new revelations.  There was the Mosaic Arts International exhibit, featuring mosaic made of materials and using techniques I didn't know existed.  I participated in the mosaic marathon, where SAMA members piece together a mosaic mural within only 3 days, and it gets donated to a local non-profit.  By joining the project, I had the opportunity to use smalti for the first time, getting tips from other mosaic artists, along with the thrill of working side-by-side with artists I had admired online.

There were meals shared with other artists, seminars and presentations, and a rocking dance party at the end.  My favorite experience from that conference was a tour to visit the home of James Hubbell, which was amazing and inspiring.  By the time I left San Diego, I was full of new ideas and a renewed commitment to building my mosaic skills.  I swore I wouldn't miss another conference.

I have not managed to go to every conference since then.  It is very expensive to fly to another city, and for the hotel stay.  I learned that it is a lot more fun and convenient to stay at the conference hotel.  By the end of the first conference, I had at least 10 new SAMA friends.  This last year, I felt like I knew everyone, and there were constant choices for after-hours activities.  It has been a great experience to sit down for dinner or drinks with people whose work I greatly admire, and to spend 5 days straight discussing mosaic, mosaic, mosaic.

Because of financial considerations, I have never taken SAMA workshops.  While everyone else is rushing from learning how to use hammer & hardie to how to make concrete forms to how to make polymer clay mosaic, I take shifts on the mosaic marathon and explore the city.  This year, because the conference is close to home, I won't have to pay for a flight, so I'm planning to take at least one workshop.

The only down-side to getting involved with SAMA is that it compelled me to work harder, learn more, and raise the level of my work to a standard that I can feel proud of.  By down-side, I mean that I sometimes miss making crafty mosaic that I can sell cheaply.  More thought goes into each item that I make - but my work has improved by leaps and bounds.  I certainly wouldn't trade my SAMA experiences for making plant pots and Ikea mirror frames.

Granted, I believe there are a lot of hobby mosaic artists who do make simple, functional work, and who go to the conference just to find new material options and to play.  It is a very supportive environment. I just happen to want to take my work to new levels.  If not for SAMA, I would not be doing portraiture or community mosaic.  And I would not know about many of the techniques and materials available.

An example of recent work.

If you are interested in mosaic, consider joining the Society of American Mosaic Artists and attending the conference.  This year's exhibit will be held at the Museum of Glass and the conference will take place at the Murano Hotel in Tacoma.  There will be great tours, and downtown Tacoma is full of art galleries.  If you live in the Pacific NW, it is far more affordable to attend.  Here is the link:
http://www.americanmosaics.org/

I hope to see you in Tacoma in April 2013!

Post-Artesian Reflections

On Monday morning, I drove to Olympia with an uncontrollable smile on my face.  Last day!  I knew I had 3 pails of grout to apply, and that it would be a rush, but I felt confident that I could finish.  It was drizzly, but plastic had been covering the surface to keep the concrete dry, and I had my canopy.

I set up and got started, and within an hour or so volunteers began to arrive.  I was surprised how many people felt compelled to be there for the last part, even though it was cold and rainy, and I had warned them that we were running out of things for everyone to do.  I think they all just wanted to see it through to the end.  Kim wiped down the epoxy grout while I mixed a new batch and kept on filling all of the grout lines with my spatula.  Susan filed sharp edges and Teasy polished the glass with superfine steel wool.  When Thor came, I had him mix the final batch of grout and he got the chance to try his hand at grouting for the first time.

Suddenly, it was time to pack up, but there was still about a foot-wide section without grout, and a lot of soft grout that still needed to be wiped down!  I knew Anouk was getting on the bus, and I needed to meet her at home.  Just then, Karen came by in her mini-van, and we came up with a plan.  Thor would finish grouting with help from the rest of the volunteers.  I left just the items they would need to finish up.  Karen would put supplies and the canopy in her van to hold onto until I can pick them up.  And I raced home, getting there a little bit late, but Anouk was home alone for no longer than 10 minutes.

It was hard to leave my big project without finishing it myself, but I was impressed that this group of people would jump in and save the day, and I knew they could do it.  The crew became very capable over the weeks they worked on the project.  Now, I realize that I could feasibly manage a community mosaic project without having to be present for the whole process.  Some of these volunteers could co-manage it with me as the lead, and we could take on projects all over Olympia and beyond!.  I've had my eye on that retaining wall right before the 4th Ave. bridge, on the hill - the one constantly being tagged and painted over.

Kim, Me, Karen, Thor, Susan, Teasy, and Robin - ready for the next project!

And the Eagles building.
And the walls of the Japanese Garden.
Just for a start.

On Wednesday, Lisandro and I took advantage of dry weather and did some filing and polishing.  We have a little bit more to go over, but it is essentially completed.  DONE!  I've been back at home and in the studio, trying to catch up on everything that has been neglected during the past 6 weeks.  It is overwhelming.  Floors need mopping, hooves need trimming, gates need fixing, the garden is about to be choked by morning glory, tilled garden beds are waiting to be planted, and my studio is piled so high with mess that it is hard to walk through it.  Meanwhile, I have committed to donations for art auctions and an exhibit, plus Matter Gallery has sold a lot of my work (yay!) so I need to get back to making art, asap.  I have so many ideas, and no ideas.  I'm finding it very hard to re-focus.

For now, I'm trying to just relax, recover, and enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done.

Approaching the finish line!

I don't know how many of my fellow SAMA members are following this, but I've been feeling as if I am leading a mosaic marathon, except that it is a month long and the people working on it are not SAMA members.  Most have never done mosaic before and are not familiar with terms like "andamento."

But, they are dedicated and enthusiastic, and they have stuck with the project all the way to the end - and we are almost there!

Last week, I felt very frustrated.  I mentioned it in a post on facebook, and was surprised how many people were incensed to learn that damage had been done to the work.  The information went a little bit viral, and I was concerned that I had inadvertently created more controversy.  But, I realize now that the result was very positive.  More people came by during this past week just to say thank you, and to express their commitment to protecting the mosaic.  One friend brought a bag of snacks last weekend, and I'm convinced that my volunteers would have run out of steam without that extra boost.  They all stayed until 6:30pm both Friday and Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.

It was a party!

Best of all, no one has removed our plastic coverings at night and there has been no tampering at all.  In less than a week, we have nearly finished adhering mosaic on the biggest and last part of the project.

There is nothing particularly innovative or fantastic about this mosaic, as mosaic goes.  It is a simple design: cartoon-like fish and completely random opus-palladianum mishmash background.  It is an onslaught of color and texture, interspersed with found objects and little surprises.  But, it has been the most meaningful project I've ever done.  I had no idea, starting out, how important this would be to the community.  First, I was very moved by the reactions of people at the fish-making event when they learned that they were invited to contribute to something that would become a permanent fixture in the City.  It was surprisingly emotional.

Never before have I allowed anyone else to work on a paid commission with me.  The first day that two volunteers showed up to help, I was scheduled for a photo shoot for a local magazine.  I had to hurry and mix thinset and give basic instructions.  I left Lisandro in charge of supervising and took off with the photographer.  Driving away felt so strange!

Slowly, more people were showing up, and anyone passing by could join us to put on one piece, or work for half the day, as they chose.  There has been so much surprise and delight in this mosaic.

One of the most dedicated volunteers is recovering from very tragic losses in his life.  He is struggling to find work as a graphic designer, but is living on the edge of homelessness.  He says working on this mosaic calms his mind, and he is often waiting in the morning when I arrive.  He mixed some of his girlfriend's ashes into the thinset one day to commemorate her in a permanent way.

Over the next few days, we'll be finishing up the background on the last pillar, and I'll do the last of the grouting.  It will be a huge relief to get back to my studio and garden, but I will also miss working with my lovely volunteers, plus all of the colorful characters who keep me company while I work.

Bouncing Back

I hit a wall this week.

Since the beginning of the month, I've been getting up every day at 6am to get my family off to school, then taking care of the farm animals, then driving 40 minutes to Olympia.  Then I set up my canopy, which is not a wimpy job, then unload a few hundred pounds of materials from my car.  I spend the day crouching on concrete, using my hand to nip and grout until it burns with pain, through lunch until my time runs out, then load it all back in the car, take the canopy down, and race back to my job as Farmer Mom.
 
*Excuse me for bragging, but I would like to mention that the car is a 1988 Toyota Corolla wagon with 342,000 miles on it - and counting.*

Monday and Thursday, I get an extra hour to work before racing home to meet the bus.  Fridays and Saturdays, I work up to 9 hours straight.  Even my volunteers, who work 2-3 days each week for shorter stretches are suffering severe aches and pains.

So, wouldn't you know it, this weekend I could feel a cold coming on.  I was dragging, so I took Monday off and got some rest.  On Tuesday, I wasn't quite recovered, but I was anxious because I had left two forms unfinished, wrapped in plastic.  I planned to do some grouting and to finish filling in one area.

I was frustrated to find that the forms had been unwrapped, and once again, pieces had been pried off.  I'm not sure I wrote last time, when someone bashed some of the stained glass and chipped pieces out.  And I think I just rolled my eyes every time I went to unwrap some earlier work, to find that someone stuck gum in the ungrouted section of the mosaic.  But this time, the pieces had been chipped off and scattered around the parking lot, and I felt so defeated I wanted to cry.

Just one example of damage done to the mosaic after hours.  There was a little glass foot on this fish tail.

Every time pieces are chipped off, I have to carve and scrape the thinset out to fit new pieces in.  Then, I can't grout until those are cured, so it can delay the project a couple of days.

I don't know who would do such a thing.  Most of the people who spend their days in that area are homeless, or living on the fringes, but they are not mean-spirited and I am on friendly terms with most of them.  There is a group of youth who band together and are not friendly toward me.  They occasionally send a messenger over to ask a pointed question such as, "So, who paid for this project?"  When I explain that it was funded by downtown businesses and commissioned by the City, they look very satisfied, but angry, and report back to the group.  In the mornings after damage has taken place, the City's signs asking people to respect the artwork will be torn off and flung to the side, and messages will be scrawled on the walls and the well saying, "Take back the well" and references to "anarchy."  Some of them have mentioned that they think improvements to the well amount to "gentrification."

These are the only clues I have.  It could just be kids on meth attracted to shiny things, in a destructive frame of mind.  But, it was pouring rain, blowing in sideways despite my canopy.  Lisandro and I were on a tarp that had started out dry, but eventually just gathered pools of water.  I was shaking so much from cold I kept dropping my pieces, and everything was sliding and dripping and drooping, including my stamina.

We actually got a lot done that day, but I couldn't bring myself to go back on Wednesday.  And I really had to pull myself up by my bootstraps to go in today, especially since it was raining again.

Lisandro has just finished wrapping the plastic with duck tape, and is ready to go home and drink hot tea.

But, Lisandro had brought duck tape on Tuesday, and the plastic stayed put.  So I put up the canopy and grouted the top of the bench - the part that had received the most abuse.  Once it is grouted, it is less vulnerable and people can comfortably sit on it.  As I worked, the sun came out.  There's a guy who plays guitar and sings a song about the well ("Come to the well and drink freely,  Come to the well, and be free.  Come to the well, and drink freely.  Come to the well and have a nice day!")  He played and sang.  A lot of people came by to thank me and express concern because they had heard about the damage.  Several more people said they would volunteer this weekend.  My cold symptoms disappeared.  Once again, I was excited about the project.

Tomorrow, we will start the final concrete structure - the biggest one.  I'm in the home stretch!  It's going to be a mild, sunny weekend and quite a few people have said they'll be joining me.  I guess I really just needed a couple of days off to get my groove back.