Winding Down

The move to Albany was completed just in time for the monthly biodynamic gardening workshops that The Pfeiffer Center allows me to attend for free.  September has brought a shift from hands-on experience to more classroom-style learning and also the clearing of the garden spaces.  Gone are the zucchini, cucumber, and tomato plants and their trellises that filled much of the summer landscape.  The basil is starting to get a bit moldy from the longer, cooler nights as we move closer to the autumnal equinox, and the butternut squash is ready to harvest.

We have about a dozen fruit trees, including apple, pear, peach, and quince.  Unfortunately, the woodchucks, squirrels, and chipmunks have been snacking on much of the fruit.  Below is a photo of some apples I picked earlier this week:

These came off the tree with the bites already in them.  I particularly like the two neat puncture marks created by the woodchuck's incisors on the middle apple.

I mentioned earlier that we've been checking the hives to see if the bees have enough honey stored for the cold and flowerless months ahead.  Late August examinations showed inadequate supplies so we checked them again yesterday.  The decision was made to combine some of the weaker hives with stronger ones and also to start feeding "bee tea" to those hives that do not have enough stored honey to get them through the winter.  This tea is a sort of syrupy mixture of honey, sugar, water, thyme, chamomile, and other herbs that is placed in a jar with tiny holes in its lid.  The jar is then set in the hive where the bees dip their tongues through the holes to drink it.  This allows them to continue making honey when flower nectar is in limited supply or simply no longer available; it will be provided to the bees weekly until November.

In the process of checking the hives, I was finally stung by one of the bees.  The stinger was squarely planted in my forehead, in the space just above and between my eyes (This is sometimes called "the third eye", the gate that leads to inner realms of higher consciousness).  It's a strange place to be swollen and itchy, but I'm keeping the scratching to a minimum and hoping for some spectacular enlightenment. 

I must say I was a bit awestruck by this swallowtail butterfly caterpillar's decision to shed his skin while traveling on my sleeve.  That's not something you see everyday, and especially not on your shoulder.  I'm guessing that it was getting ready for hibernation.  

Speaking of hibernation, it's time for to me to have my temporary session, so I'll sign off for now.  Have a good night.