I’ve not a lot to report. We’ve been busy tearing out the hedgerow bequeathed to us by our house’s original owners, a mix of trumpet vine, wisteria, invasive trees, weeds, and a few decent trees stunted by the rest. It will remain a work in progress, but we’ve got through more of it than in past years, partly because our neighbor has helpfully been using his truck to pull up the fence posts and wires intertwined in the aforementioned. Since the mess has also engulfed part of his and his wife’s yard, he is being more than generous in his aid. I’m sure they’re sick of looking at it too.
Of course, we all know we will never be fully rid of the vines. Our hope is to fight them to enough of a standstill that they can be mowed over and kept in check.
Earlier this month, The Engineer did the ceremonial Last Paddle of 2026, which includes pulling out the floating fountain and adding the (naturally formulated) pond treatment.
We had hoped to do one more real paddle at one of our local lakes, but never found the time. So my paddling this year was limited to one trip before the wrist issue and one afterwards. I count myself lucky to have had those.
The bikes were also put away, with my hope of another ride similarly dashed. Still, I did get to ride twice after the wrist, which I again count as fortunate since I fell just a few days after making the (rather large) investment in my ebike.
Despite being hours away from November, we’ve had a surprisingly warm fall. Two hard frosts ended the bees’ syrup feeding, but they’ve been flying most days, and we almost have them in the configuration we want for winter.
After being relocated into the Long Langstroth box, Hive #4A is the new LoLa. And today, we put the escape board on #3A to take it down to two boxes. One of its three boxes is pretty much empty anyway, although the hive is quite well-populated.
Last year at the state bee conference, we learned about condensing hives — which are the very opposite of the ventilated hive winterization we had been taught for nine years — and I begged our local club to have someone talk on the subject. Our vice-president was able to arrange for Peggy DeSanto, the inventor of the “Hive Hugger,” to speak to us via Zoom.
We’d already sort of converted to using the condensing method last year, but after hearing her speak, we invested in the “Crown,” a part of her Hive Hugger method. We didn’t need the whole kit because a) we always try new things one hive at a time, and b) The Engineer already engineered foam boxes that pretty much do the same thing. The “Crown,” on the other hand has an insulation value of about r30 because it’s vacuum-sealed. To get a similar rating with regular foam, it would have to be stacked quite high and would likely get blown away by winter winds.
If you’re interested in condensing hives vs ventilated hives, here’s an article to get you started.
I’ve also been crocheting like mad, trying to beat or at least come close to the number of afghans I donated last year and doing it in ten months rather than twelve. Here’s one I made in a very fall-inspired color scheme.
Next week, we do the owner-assisted annual on our plane, though this owner will only be there for three days of the work because I’m doing a craft show with a friend. No afghans, I’m not sure anyone would buy them, but I’ll have honey and other hive-related products — toasted pecans in honey, soap, lotion bars, and bee balm. We’ll see how it goes. I’m mainly doing it because it will be a couple of fun days sitting around chatting with friends.
To close, here are a couple of photos of the sun rising over out pond, a sight I never grow tired of looking at.
The sunsets over the fields across the street are also quite lovely, but I rarely take photos of them because our house is oriented more toward the back yard, so I notice the morning views more often.
I’ve got no good excuse for my lack of posts except to say we’ve been busy. But, everyone’s busy. And I wrote more often when I was still working, so really I have absolutely, positively no excuse.
That said, I was out of town for three out of four weekends in September, and we’ve finally been catching up with the bees.
As part of our quest to shrink the OH Honey Apiary down to two hives, we gave away two hives to a friend who is trying to do the opposite. This leaves us with three; two are huge and thriving, and one is … not. The queen has a poor laying pattern, and even though they were requeening, or at least trying to, they were either unsuccessful or the new queen has not got up to speed.
We might have been able to buy a queen, but it’s late in the season to be propping up a weak hive. Instead we are treating the colony like the other two — feeding them 2:1 sugar syrup to help them build stores for the winter and treating them with oxalic acid vapor to knock down the Varroa mite load before the cold sets in.
I don’t really expect them to survive the winter, but they may surprise us. They do still have a decent population and are still out foraging.
Here’s what the apiary looked like a week or two ago after taking off the honey supers and inspecting the middle hive. They weren’t too happy to be disassembled. It’s still robbing season, so I can’t blame them for being a little defensive, but we had to check everything was good as they (and we) prepare for winter.
We ended up taking 62 full frames of honey to extract, plus many partials to freeze to start them off next year. Not too bad, I think, given we were unable to mind them as closely as usual due to my broken wrist.
Today we finally bottled the honey, and I’m pleased to report I already rendered the wax cappings once. I plan to do so again to at least some of it so I can use it in lotion bars and lip balm.
I also creamed a batch, resulting in 21 jelly jars (1/2 pints) to sell at a craft fair I’m doing with a friend. Whatever doesn’t sell will be given as gifts.
The same fates await the lotion bars, the lip balm, and some soap I’m “making” (if melting soap base and adding scent and other ingredients to it can count as making soap). So far, I’ve done turmeric and orange, and piney-rosemary scented with honey.
While we’re still sort of on the subject of bees (or at least bee products), here’s a video of a feral hive our friends in Illinois noticed in one of trees. How cool is that?
Thankfully, it’s been warm, and there are still a few flowers in our meadow for the bees to forage. I think these are pretty, though they seem to prefer the asters, as you can see below.
The trees are starting to change, which makes it a joy to look out our windows. I love the way this maple looks like someone took a paint brush to the tips of its branches.
I do love the colors of fall.
We were fortunate that the lovely fall weather stuck around long enough for us to take Sylvia out on one final camping trip.
It was lovely. Here’s some Staghorn Sumac growing trailside.
Also, I thought I’d share a picture of the dinner we had one night — ham and cheese sandwiches made from crescent rolls in the pie irons. They got a little, er, overdone, as frequently happens when cooking with fire. And yet, they tasted just fine. (Note the deep woods insect repellant in the pocket behind my plate — bugs love to feast on me as much as we enjoy feasting on campfire cooked food.)
When we registered, I was still a little concerned about my wrist strength, so I didn’t even try to do paddle boarding or kayaking because I was afraid I might be able to get back on/in the watercraft. I ended up doing “Creek Peek,” (learning how a stream’s health is evaluated — very interesting!), archery, disc golf, and a UTV tour — basically rocketing around the park in a UTV.
Here’s a video from the creek we inspected and found to be quite healthy.
And although I quickly learned I was not a natural at either disc golf or archery, I enjoyed both activities, managing to hit the stuffed coyote at least a few times.
I also managed to get poison ivy, probably while playing disco golf in the woods, even though one of the instructors was kind enough to fetch any discs that landed in any questionable foliage. At least, I think that’s where I got it. We have it on our property, so it could very well have been at home.
Anyway, I itch.
I’ll close with some poetry, courtesy of a bee-themed magnetic poetry kit a couple of friends gave me for no particular reason (so kind of them!). As you can see, my recent sting was still on my mind. 🙂
We’re again in the middle of a heat wave, with temperatures in the 90s, and high humidity causing the heat index to raise into the 100s.
Of course, we are not alone in experiencing this weather. Others have had the same weather compounded by fires and floods, so all in all, I think we can count ourselves lucky.
And what are our so-called leaders doing to combat these climate-change related problems? Why, they are spending billions of our hard-earned tax dollars to close down wind turbine farms and gilding statues in DC.
But, I digress. My point about the heat is actually that it’s too hot to work outside or get into the hives, so I have a little time to blog.
In the apiary, we are down to four hives, having given one to an acquaintance. We plan to rehome another as soon as we can arrange it, which will leave us with three.
One of those hives had a poor brood pattern, but they were requeening last time we were in it, so we’ll see if that works and remedies the issue. If it does, we will try to find a home for that one too. If it doesn’t, we’ll have to figure out what to do with it.
The remaining two hives are quite active, but we probably need to have a look inside, now the goldenrod is blooming and we’re out of the midsummer food dearth.
But not until it cools down.
I almost forgot to mention I got stung on my eyebrow the day I wrote my last post. I didn’t expect it to be a big deal since I’ve been stung there before. All that happened after I took my precautionary antihistamine mix was my eyelid got a bit droopy.
Well! All I can say is every sting is different because this time the whole top part of my face swelled up, especially around my eyes. I took pictures, but I won’t be sharing them here. Suffice to say, the swelling was bad enough I didn’t go out of the house for four days.
I briefly considered seeing a doctor, but the swelling was localized and didn’t affect my eyesight so I stuck with antihistamines and icing.
So, that’s the bee update.
As for the wrist, I’m pretty much back to normal — able to go to exercise class, pull weeds, and crochet. In fact, I’m so much back to normal that I feel surprised when I discover something I can’t quite do yet. Can’t think of any examples offhand, but there have been a few.
Still, I finally(!) got to try out the ebike I purchased a few days before I fell.
First The Engineer and I went for a short ride on a local bike path. Then, we spent most of last weekend using our bikes for transport when we went camping on Kelleys Island.
If you’re not from Ohio (and in some cases, even if you are), you may not know Ohio has islands, mostly in Lake Erie. We’ve actually visited most (if not all) of those with public access, usually flying in for a day trip with our folding bikes.
This time, however, we took our van, loaded with camping gear for a three-night stay at the Kelleys Island State Park. We took the Kelleys Island Ferry, which is the only way to get a vehicle to the island. (If you just take yourself, you can ride the Jet Express.)
As you can see from the picture, we had great weather and a smooth crossing. The flag was at half-staff for Dolly.
The islands are known as a party destination, but Kelleys isn’t nearly as bad as Put-in-Bay on South Bass Island, a place we try to avoid unless it’s slightly off-season or a weekday. Too many people carry on like they’ve never had a drink before!
The vibe on Kelleys is generally more “people who like to have a good time, but know when to stop.”
Also, Kelleys has Village Pump, home of excellent perch baskets and Brandy Alexanders.
Brandy Alexander: Basically an alcoholic milkshake
We also stopped in a few times at the Island House and plan to dine there next visit. The drinks were good, the food menu looked great, as did the food coming out of the kitchen.
Also, on the food scene, we had some delicious tacos at KI Cantina, although my margarita was somewhat underwhelming.
I made the other four meals (two dinners, two breakfasts) on the fire and on our wood-burning camp stove. We had an egg scramble with onions and peppers, egg-in-a-hole, gyros (done in the pie irons) and a sausage, potato, onion, celery, pepper meal done wrapped in foil and cooked in coals.
Here’s a view near the state park.
There were more trails than I remembered, probably thanks to the Kelleys Island Trail and Bike Association. The Engineer and I took the opportunity to walk around the North Shore Loop, veering off to walk around the Glacial Grooves.
The Grooves have also seen improvements, with better signage and a nicer, more protective walkway than last time we visited. I didn’t take any pictures of these remnants of the glacial period, so click through above to see some.
The weather was wonderful, showcasing our beautiful Great Lake (one of the five, which also include Huron, ONTARIO, Michigan, and Superior — go here for more information about the lakes’ names).
The Great Lakes, sometimes referred to as the “Inland Seas,” make up the largest freshwater system on the planet. Lake Erie is the shallowest; you can click here for a graphic showing just how shallow it is. The graphic doesn’t include Huron, probably because, as Britannica puts it, “… Lakes Michigan and Huron … are hydrologically one lake…”
There are quarries on many of islands of Lake Erie, though few, if any, are still working. No hike would be complete without stumbling — hopefully only figuratively — across remnants of the industry, and of course, the huge holes in the ground are another clue as to the land’s not so ancient history.
This was a dynamite shack.
And there are more recent additions to the tree-lined paths.
Someone has been building fairy gardens, including one whole fairy town! I dare anyone to not smile at the whimsy of these additions.
Back in town, I couldn’t help but laugh at this warning to drivers.
Because check-out time was 1 pm, unusually late for a campground, we planned to take our time packing up camp Sunday morning, thereby avoiding the rush to the ferry and the resulting lines.
Rain changed our plans, and we ended up having a light lunch (and one last Brandy Alexander for me) at Village Pump instead.
In the end, we still had to wait, but the boats were running continuously, so we only had to sit about twenty minutes.
Heading home
Now we are recharging — both camp lights and ourselves — for the next camp trip. 🙂
However, before I go, I want to share one last picture, although it’s not a very good one.
Yesterday, I happened to glance out the kitchen window and saw a HUGE Bald Eagle, flapping and climbing its way out of our pond. It was so clearly marked with its white tale and head and so big! I’m not exaggerating when I say I think it’s head would have come up to my thigh. Not that I’d willingly take my thigh or any other part of my body anywhere near a Bald Eagle — those beaks look lethal!
The eagles nest at a large lake not far from us, so I imagine this one was exploring the area looking for food, although s/he didn’t seem to have been successful.
I’ve just looked it up, and I think the eagle was female because according to BirdHelpful, females are bigger, with longer tales.
What a sight! Although I’ve seen quite a few Bald Eagles, both in flight and perched on the top of a tree, but to see one in my own yard … wow!
I am only sorry my phone’s camera couldn’t show you what my eyes saw.
To make up for my lapse in blog posts, today, I’ll give you a whirlwind tour of what we’ve been up to, with lots of photos.
First of all, the wrist: I’m mostly out of the brace except for heavy lifting — like exercise class (which I returned to this week), kayak loading, and weeding. My range of motion is still limited though, particularly the up-down, sort of nodding movement you make with a fist, and I continue with therapy at home to improve that and to build strength.
I’m also trying build strength by not favoring that arm, unless a task is clearly beyond my capabilities.
Then there’s the scar massaging to prevent it from thickening so it doesn’t interfere with nerves or tendons.
My surgeon was absolutely delighted with my progress, which I took as a compliment to my hard work at therapy until I realized he was more likely just very pleased with his own work.
Either way, it’s a good thing, don’t you think.
Here’s what my arm looks like now.
In July, we flew to Oshkosh, stopping to meet up with friends at a grass strip in Illinois. The plane was quite full, with 80 pounds of t-shirts, camping gear, and other odds and ends, though it didn’t seem quite as stuffed as usual. After all these years, maybe I’m getting better at packing.
We ended up flying into OSH a day late due to haze caused by the wildfires, arriving on Friday. Thursday, the airport was closed to non-instrument arrivals, and then again for at least part of Saturday. The photo below was taken Saturday afternoon.
It was an eerie sight.
Thankfully, things cleared up for the rest of our stay. The weather cooled down at night so we could sleep (even in a tent), though walking anywhere — and you have to walk everywhere because the trams are almost always full — left us dripping with sweat.
Still, that’s Oshkosh, and it was ever thus.
Here are a few things I saw that week.
Left to right, top to bottom: 1) A sign at the Abingdon camp (they make very nice watches well out of my price range, but I love their women-focused approach) 2) Chicken tail art 3) Balloons setting up at the end of our row, 4) DC-3s, all lined up in the Warbird area, 5) Early morning at camp.
It was a good trip, though we ended up having to stay longer than originally planned. Since we now leave home on a Tuesday, last year we decided we’d fly home on Thursday rather than staying through the last three days of the show.
This is because when we started going to Oshkosh, our group would fly in from Illinois on Saturday, but our arrival date has gradually creeped back because the powers that be have become less and less accommodating to groups that are not “type” based, i.e., groups of the same type of plane. Our group is a mishmash of airplane types held together by the friendships of those who own them.
Thus, our trips have gradually gotten longer and longer, and as much as I like planes and as much as I love our group, one does get tired of waking up at 6:30 to the sound of engines. If we’d left for home on Thursday as planned, It would have still been a ten day trip, which is plenty!
However, this year, the Red Arrows were to fly during the show. If you’re not familiar with them, the Arrows are the official Royal Air Force aerobatics team, and it turned out they were scheduled to fly Thursday and Friday.
The end result was we ended up staying until Saturday morning and Darling Daughter (who also came forpart of the week) ended up missing them because their schedule was announced after she’d already made her travel arrangements.
I was disappointed on her behalf because their part of the show was great — not noisy as the Blue Angels or the Thunderbirds, just pure skill on exhibition.
Arriving home, we were greeted with a still-incomplete deck and a stray kitten.
She was very sweet, and I awarded myself the task of finding a home or shelter for her. We can’t keep her because we travel so much.
In the end, I left food out for her (which was eaten, hopefully by her), but she was gone when we got home.
Still, I’ve not yet given up hope she will return. We had previously seen her with her litter-mates over a month before she adopted us after Oshkosh, so she may yet return.
Paddlefest was great, although I couldn’t paddle (nine miles seemed a bit extreme straight of the flue, as it were), and there was a major downpour and a brief storm while the paddlers were on the river.
We also volunteered at the Friday night outdoor fest as we’ve done for several years and stocked up on English chocolate and tea, among other things, at Jungle Jim’s on the way home, so it was a pleasant trip despite the rain.
A few days ago, I finally got back in a yak when we tried a short paddle on a local lake. It was lovely, but afterward my aching wrist told me I’d made the right decision on Paddlefest.
In other news, we have at least three turtles in the pond, and one has been coming around to be fed, along with the fish.
We’ve also been trying to catch up with our apiary, which has had more issues this year than at any other time in our ten years of beekeeping. I attribute this to two things: We had such a wet and weird spring that the new queens didn’t mate properly or didn’t return to the hive after mating, and my wrist kept us from checking the hives as often as required to stay on top of things.
After discussing the effort required to maintain this size apiary, we have decided to go down to two hives and will be looking for homes for several. We had already gone down to four, but that has resulted in us always having more at the end of summer.
Four hives that come out strong after winter become at least eight. Even though we sold two this year, we still have more than four. Thus, we decided on two, thinking we can usually sell a few.
In theory, two means we have a better chance at keeping the numbers low. We shall see.
The apiary currently holds five hives, after we chose to euthanize one. This isn’t a decision we made lightly. The hive had clearly had no queen for quite a while and was full of drone brood from laying workers, along with the overpopulation of drones that results from such an occurrence. It’s also late in the season to try to shore up a bad hive, especially when we are trying to downsize.
Another hive had spotty brood, but was trying to requeen when we checked it two days ago to see if it could possibly be combined with a strong hive.
It was in the process of trying to checking that we discovered they were requeening, after we destroyed two viable queen cells when we pulled out frames. When we saw a charged queen cell on another frame, we closed up shop and left them to it.
Today, we checked another hive that we’d last been into in June. At that time, we saw a mated queen, but no eggs, brood, or larvae. Well! She is certainly making up for lost time. There was brood, larvae, and eggs throughout the hive, plus honey in the supers.
We were able to take eight full medium frames.
Unfortunately, robbing is a common occurrence this time of year, and there was an awful lot of activity at the entrance as we finished up our check, leading me to think some thieves had arrived.
We blocked the front entrance with a robbing screen, and closed the hive as quickly as we could.
Apparently, we weren’t fast enough because the inhabitants got testy (wouldn’t you?) and took it out on us, circling us (mainly me) with several following us into the barn after we’d taken off our suits.
One of them got me in the eyebrow, and another was so interested in adding to my pain that she followed me a good 50-100 yards toward the house.
On days like these, I wonder what normal people do on a Saturday?
Today my friend and I took a field trip to a place called Lavender Trails. If this conjures up a picture of lavender fields surrounded by blue skies and trees, you’d be half right.
It’s a beautiful place indeed. But what you wouldn’t imagine, and what’s not shown in the photo, is the industrial estate where the field is located.
This location, a brownfield that was previously used as a dumping place for concrete, was intentionally chosen by Jim and Amy Duxbury, two former teachers who wanted to leave the world a better place then they found it. They have the four acres on lease, with understanding that their project will rehabilitate the previously industrial landscape.
Five dollars each bought us a tour of the fields, a lesson in lavender, and a visit in the Monarch butterfly house. We could also have explored the pollinator garden, but chose instead to spend another $10 to cut our own blooms (up to 200 stems or all we could fit in both ends of a small PVC pipe.
We only filled one end, and it was plenty for both of us. I also bought some locally made lavender soap, lavender honey, and a lavender plant.
I was especially pleased to see the number of pollinators, butterflies, native bees, and many, many honey bees. (There are two hives on the plot.)
Unfortunately, my photography skills were not up to capturing the quick foragers, and my photo is quite blurry.
In my video, though the breeze was giving this little girl quite a ride, resulting in more blurriness.
Maybe just go visit for yourself if you happen to be in northern Ohio. It’s easy to find because Mr. Duxbury maintains great signage, with one posted at every possible turn.
But don’t take my word for it.
The Family Destination Guide and Compass Ohio agree with me, but you better go soon. The fields only bloom for about a month, and when the blossoms are gone, they’re gone … at least until next year.
I’m throwing in the towel … I mean afghan … I’m throwing in he afghan on my temperature afghan project. If you’re not familiar with the concept, a temperature afghan is one where the crafter usually either knits or crochets one row for each day in a color based on that day’s temperature, though I have similar projects involving quilts, embroidery and cross-stitch.
My afghan began at winter solstice, using colors chosen from my yarn stash and randomly choosing the number of stitches in the starting row from this blog. However, I chose to make each row double crochet, rather than single.
Both of these decisions were mistakes. First of all 230 stitch rows are way too wide, and secondly, double crochets meant the the afghan became way too long. I also tend to crochet loosely, which exacerbated both of these issues.
My afghan was HUGE even before we reached the summer solstice. If I had continued for another six months, it would have taken over our whole living room, so I decided to stop when I reached the solstice and start anew on a smaller scale.
Then I broke my wrist.
At first, I thought, I’d just do the remaining rows when my wrist was healed enough to crochet for longer periods. But that prospect became too daunting after I discovered how much my arm acheds after crocheting for the ten-minute increments I’m currently allowed.
So, I’ve thrown in the afghan.
Here it is (although I did cut off a few rows at the top of the photo). It’s at least as big as our California King bed (72″ x 84″).
For comparison, here’s a photo of my current project, three days in.
In other news, I can now drive, though only The Engineer’s van, and I wouldn’t want to attempt any long trips.
I also had my first therapy session, where I was sent home with about five double-sided pages of exercises to do several times a day. We are currently working on range of motion, which will eventually be followed by rebuilding the strength in that arm.
The exercises hurt, I won’t lie, though not in a “damaging something” kind of way. I’ve seen marked improvement already, but it’s very clear to me that the process of getting back to normal, even a new normal, will take some time.
Still, my fall was four weeks ago today, and when I compare the progress from then to now, I am continually amazed at the human body’s resilience.
The physican’s assistant (PA) said she was amazed how well the surgeon managed to pin me back together given the severity of my break. When she called up and enlarged the before and after x-rays, it was easy to see what she meant.
Through surgery, my wrist went from being a mess to being something much more like a wrist.
When I fell, I not only broke the radius into several pieces and cracked what wasn’t broken off, I also compressed the bone by about a centimeter.
The radius, as it turns out, is the bone that runs up the thumb side of your arm, not the other side as I had mistakenly believed.
Guess I didn’t pay close enough attention to the x-rays when the doctor showed them. In my defense, I was still in a lot of pain and not processing information very well (clearly).
After I fell, my arm was kind of crooked, with a bump sticking out on the opposite side of my wrist, which is why I thought that was the broken bone.
But in a closer review of the x-rays with the PA, I could see where I was wrong. When I mentioned the bump, she said, “Oh, you chipped that bone a little, but we’re just going to leave that it.”
Then she demonstrated exercises I should be doing, and reviewed what I can start doing and what will have to wait.
Light housework: Yes. Light laundry: Yes. Crocheting: Yes, but only for five to ten minutes. This surprised me because I thought the wrist action involved would be perfect therapy, but she said don’t push it. Driving my manual transmission car: Not yet. Too much pushing and pulling on the wrist, though she did agree with Dave I could maybe practice shifting while sitting in the garage. Exercise class: Maybe, but anything that warms up the body and raises my heart rate will cause swelling and pain. Again, I was surprised because I take a class that’s geared toward seniors and many modifications are offered. My PA recommended walking as a good temporary replacement.
I didn’t even ask about kayaking or cycling since they were clearly not in my immediate future.
When I asked about therapy, she said I might be okay without it, that we could play it by ear. I said I’d like to do all I can to strengthen my wrist, she put in an order for it.
tomorrow i go back to the doctor, and i cant wait because im getting very tired of not being able to do anything. or maybe i just dont like being unable to do what i want.
this doesnt bode well for my aging process.
the good news is my arm doesnt hurt as much as it did … unless i try to do something.
things i can do: shower alone with my plastic bag splint cover. wash my hair (sort of). comb some of my hair. load and unload dishwasher. dress and undress (sometimes requires help). wash small loads of clothes, though my folding ability leaves much to be desired. open jars that have been previously opened (thanks to my friend lynnes asking advice from her friend who had a similar injury). help the engineer check a hive – i was actually surprised how well we did. feed the fish in the pond.
im not goimg to list what i cant do because it would sound like whining (because thats what it would be), and i am quite aware i am very lucky. i have friends who regularly send encouraging texts, a husband who doesnt complain on taking on what i am unable to, a daughter who got us set up to function, and enough money to pay a cleaner to come every other week.
trust me, i am VERY grateful.
also, i got the staples taken out of my head on monday. yes, it hurt, but it was fast, which made it easier. i still have a big scab.
the bruise on the back of my hand is fading to a sickly yellow. so is the back of my arm.
i can wiggle my fingers.
and i hope to soon have a better idea of whats next.
so, moving forward!
bee report on the one hive weve managed to check, 3a: when we last inpected, this colony appeared to have no queen, nor evidence of one. we combined it with a swarm we caught that had also lost its queen and hadnt made one from the eggs and larvae we gave it. we put a queen cell from yet another hive in the box with the swarm bees and made kind of a demaree setup.
the layers were like this (top to bottom): swarm deep box with queen cell. paper. queen excluder. honey super. queen excluder. original hive deep box. original hive deep box.
our logic was the paper and honey super would allow the two hives to adjust into one. the queen in the swarm box would emerge and start to lay, her pheromones would spread through the boxes, and eventaully we could return the colony to a more traditional setup.
and thats what happened … sort of.
when we checked this time, we took off the top two boxes before going through the second one from the bottom.
glory bee! (glory bees?) there was brood, eggs, and larvae. we have a queen! we started reassembling the hive, going through the top deep box in the process.
there was brood there too. it was only on one frame, and at first i thought it was from the frame that previously had the queen cell. but when the engineer flipped it around, we saw fresh brood.
then i spotted the queen, who we did not attempt to mark, given my current limitations (which i know are very minor compared to those some people deal with EVERY SINGLE DAY OF THEIR LIVES!). it was only then we realized we must have two queens.
what to do, what to do.
readers, we left them to sort it out, at least for now.
our thinking was this: judging by the age of the brood, theyd clearly been functioning as a two queen hive for a while. we have previously had two quuens in a hive. although in that case, it was a mother and daughter, the most common scenario for this situation. eventually, the old queen was just no longer present. we didnt split the hive since we already have 3-4 more hives than we want to manage. we have six more hives to get through and are hoping to consolidate a few. it may be we end up needing a queen. if the worst happens, and both queens end up dead, they have plenty of eggs and larvae to make a new one.
on a positive note, we were able to pull two frames of honey. we also under-supered the old honey super with another super of partially full and extracted frames.
and thats whats happening with the byrd and the bees.
yesterday i had surgery, which went smoothly. the doc was able to do the simpler option with just screws and a plate at my wrist, instead of the more complicated version with a temporary spanner plate from the elbow down, which would have needed to be removed after four months.
so thats good.
in fact, the worst part of my surgery was, as always, getting in the iv.
“i have bad veins,” i warned the nurse. “theyre small, and they blow, and the best one is in my right arm, which cant be used because i have no lymph nodes on that side.” (due to them being removed in an axillary dissection when i had breast cancer, i have to avoid — as much as possible — anything that would constrict the lymphatic system on that side as well as any sharps.)
“so i hope youre good at this,” i added.
the poor woman. i could tell by the frozen look on her face that she was not, in fact, good at it.
still, she gave it her best shot.
it blew immediately, and the two nurses began talking about a patient the day before whose veins kept blowing.
normally i wouldnt say anything, but damn it, my hand was hurting.
i interrupted.
“thats not helpimg.”
oh, they said, he was dehydrated. its not the same.
i pointed out that i was likely dehydrated too since surgery prep meant id had nothing in the previos 8 hours.
oh, yes, but he was a colonoscopy, and you know how empty you have to be for that.
“still.” i said, “thats not what i need to hear about right now.”
they changed the subject, the one at my side poked me again and blew another vein. the other nurse tried and got an iv flowing on the first try.
i know nobody is good at all aspects of their job, and both nurses were kind, caring, and seemed competent, but could they not have swapped jobs earlier, before my poor, old, dried out hand looked like this?
or could i not have been born with veins like my mom? i swear all anyone had to do was wave a needle at her, and her veins would flow like a fire hose.
you can read more of my thoughts on this subject here (if you want to, and i cant think why you would).
anyway, after that, they wheeled me to pre-op, gave me a sedative, followed quickly by my nerve block, and thats all i remember before waking up back where i started with a floppolly, doppolly arm.
it was so weird.
you know how you feel a body part even when youre not using it? well, i could feel my arm, but at the same time, it was rolling away in a completely different direction from where i was feeling it.
i took a nap, and when i woke up, i thought the block had worn off. i could feel my arm at a 90 degree angle, perpindicular to my prone body and feel my fingers move as i flexed them.
when i looked, my arm was sprawled on the pillow beside me like a poorly stuffed sausage spilling off a butchers styrofoam tray. and when darling daughter and i would pick it up — bent at the elbow — to put it in my sling (to prevent injury when i stood or moved), it swung like a pendulum beneath my shoulder.
this morning, the first thing i did was wiggle my fingers. the second was to look and see if they were actually moving. the third was to wake up the engineer and show him they were.
i took percocet as instructed last night and early this morning to try to stay ahead of the pain. then i was going to switch to just ibuprofen.
it turns out im not quite as tough as i thought because it does feel like theres been a plate screwed into my bone. or maybe not. that seems so violent.
all i know is when i first practiced making a fist (as instructed, to help prevent arthritis), i could do it … but just barely.
after only a few attempts, i realized i should probably just follow the guidelines on using the drugs.
so i am.
im going to be fine. it just may take a little while.
and i am so very grateful to my family and friends for all they are doing and have done to help me meet this challenge. and im lucky to have this view from where i sit on the couch, arm iced and elevated.
*i have to be honest; im spelling that title phonetically because im pretty sure its not in the dicionary.
he said bad break with – looking at daughters notes – “lots of pieces (more than eye can see), multiple fracture lines into surface of bone/moveable part of the joint.”
surgery friday. not sure of procedure until hes into it. will be screws and a plate at least.
my job until then is to keep arm elevated and ice on crook of elbow and fingers. this will take down swelling, make surgery easier. maybe improve outcome?
good news:
they replaced super tight splint from er with looser one – much better.
we got a cast bag, and i wwas able to shower.
bliss.
bought some oversized, front button shirts from goodwill to make dressing easier.
my stepsister visited and brought a ton of easily warmed up food.
many kind texts and calls from friends and my brother too.
darling daughter and the engineer are looking after me.
how does anyone get through this kind of thing alone?
