By: Ed Colby
That gal Marilyn said, “I have a lot of nice thrift store clothes, but we never go anywhere, so I never get to wear them.”
I guess she won’t be wearing them anytime soon. Marilyn can still turn ‘em both ways, but she’s no longer an 18-year-old hotshot ski racer. Last Wednesday, while skiing with her brother at Copper Mountain, her skis went out from under her on some bulletproof Spring snow, and she took a bounce on her left hip. Passing snowboarders, Brittany and Maggie, tended to her until the ski patrol arrived, her brother being farther down the hill. When he called Marilyn’s cell, she answered with a cheery, “Oh hi Patrick!” Maggie was apparently impressed with the patient’s positive outlook. “Oh my God!” she blurted. “I so want to be you when I grow up!”
No surgery required, but a night in the hospital and six to eight weeks on crutches, with full recovery farther down the road. When we got home, Marilyn made lemonade out of lemons and started right in on Moby Dick. She’s suddenly got lots of time for reading.
I’m nurse-in-charge. Marilyn shuffles around the house with her walker but can’t do the simplest things, like pick her ice pack off the floor when she drops it or take off her socks. She keeps the pain under control with those powerful but devilishly addicting drugs brought to us by the Sackler family. My nursing duties cramp my style in the beeyard, but my mantra is “Work smart, not hard.”
It’s early May as I write. I’ve had some problems getting queens this Spring, so I’ve been making walkaway splits, with a wrinkle. First off, I don’t bother looking for the queen. She’s in one split or the other, right? The other one can make a new queen. What I’ve always done before is haul one split to another yard, so that foragers from both splits don’t return to the split that remains in the hive’s original location.
Here’s my new way: Let’s say a two-story hive faces south before I split it. I place the splits back-to-back, with one facing east and one west, on the original hive location. Returning foragers now have to choose which split to return to. They’re right next to each other. I’ve so far tried this on two sets of splits. In the first, the bee populations three days later were more or less equal. This is what I wanted to see. In the second, they favored one of the splits. But I fixed that by simply switching the location of the two splits, so now bees are re-populating the weaker one.
This is all about keeping things simple and saving myself some lifting and running around.
I want to get out there and make more splits, but between nursing, feuding with a neighbor and getting ready for Dandelion Day tomorrow, I just don’t have time.
Dandelion Day is Carbondale’s way of celebrating the official town flower. The town mothers preach the gospel of dandelions as food for pollinators and other wildlife. This is very progressive! Every year, I do my part by sending in a letter to the editor warning that if people abuse dandelions, there could be a hangup at the Pearly Gates.
This year’s letter: Dandelion Day is upon us, and every child’s favorite flower carpets our yards and farmlands. Aren’t you glad?
Dandelions are not only lovely to behold – they provide a critical source of both nectar (carbohydrates) and pollen (protein) for honey bees and our native pollinators. Deer and elk like to eat them. Without dandelions, honey bees can and do starve. Bees emerge from Winter with their honey stores largely depleted. They need to make more. Since they don’t make honey in cool weather, snow, rain or cold during the dandelion bloom can spell trouble for the little darlings.
The more dandelions, the better. Gardeners, dandelions are not your enemies. They’re your friends – useful plants that are easy to grow. You can do your part by refraining from poisoning them or digging them up or mowing them. Why does your garden have to look like the centerfold in one of those garden magazines? Relax! Instead of obsessing over dandelions, help Mother Earth and leave them alone.
Marilyn sells honey at Sopris Park in Carbondale on Dandelion Day, but not this year. I’m filling in for her, which is not what I want to do. So I’m packing honey today, along with keeping up a running battle with my neighbor about a fence. Is this what life boils down to? A fence? I’m better than this – we all are – but it’s easy to get sucked in.
Newsflash! My neighbor just sent me a series of emails. He’s been calling around. He says I need a bee business license, and that my backyard “studio,” built in 1930, is too close to our property line and needs to be demolished. He asserts that I need a “Special Event” license in order to host our annual Colorado State Beekeepers Association backyard potluck in June. He assures me that he will object to my event license application, on account of smoke pollution. Five years ago, he loaned me his barbecue grill for the potluck.
I told Marilyn we should put a sign on our gate that reads “Hatfields,” pointing down our driveway and “McCoys,” pointing towards our neighbor’s. She says we should just keep waving.
Gentle reader, did you find this piece amusing, heartwarming, and instructive? Contact Ed Colby at Coloradobees1@gmail.com. Ask him to promptly mail you a signed copy of A Beekeeper’s Life, Tales from the Bottom Board, a collection of his Bee Culture columns. Price: $25. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back!
