Imagine my dismay upon leaving one of our Liberal executive meetings only to find myself stuck behind the president as we descended Lakeshore Road. Stan’s an absolutely adorable person, but he drives like an old lady. I tailgated him down the hill, and as we turned onto Swamp Road we were stopped at a red light.
I rolled down my window, and as he has a convertible I knew he could hear me, and screamed at him “Move over. Get off the road!” People in nearby cars and a man on the sidewalk stared, but I continued my rant and started waving my arm indicating “get off.”
Stan had Ken the treasurer in the car with him, and he dutifully pulled over to the side so I could get ahead of him. Free, I put the pedal to the metal and did the usual giddy spree down Swamp Road, through the first roundabout, through the next roundabout, and home within 10 minutes of leaving Alice, the vice president’s, place.
The next day I sent an e mail to Stan saying hey sorry but I like to make it between my house and Alice’s in ten minutes. He replied no problem, and said he’s been passed by blondes in red hot rods many times.
Today my bold streak seemed to hold as I went down to the big bee hive and took out every frame, and found five heavy and full of honey, so removed those. One replaces those with blank frames, and as usual, the last one just wouldn’t go in properly.
If you can imagine, riddling a hive filled with 80,000 angry bees as you try to get the 11th frame into the hive box in a bee suit in the Okanagan in July is no picnic. I finally gave up, and thought “F. it.” Yes, I swear when near the bees and am not in any way the image of the calm beekeeper.
And the lower yard is no sea of tranquility for my poor neighbour Pat who’s so neat and tidy in his yard. However I’ve left the alfalfa to grow wild everywhere, and the bees are having a ball with it. The result is a field of alfalfa with the remnants of old garden beds evident in places.
But despite the wretched gardening efforts, my season’s been filled with decent bounty. I had very dark red and lovely rhubarb, followed by sweet strawberries. I’ve just eaten the last of my blueberries and can pick ripe figs from my little fig tree.
The poor, neglected apricot tree has fruit on it, too, so now I go down and pick a few apricots, warm, from the sun, and eat them right there. For the first time ever I have little kiwis forming on my kiwi plant. I’ve had that thing for at least five years and this is the first year for fruit.
And of course I eat lashings of honey and honeycomb. Jan, Haruka and I just scrape the honeycomb right off the frames and eat it. Good thing, as the extractor I bought last year for around $200 is a piece of junk and I can’t get the handle to turn at all this year.
Nicky frowns at the pieces of dead bees and other debris in the honeycomb and refuses to eat it, which is unfortunate, as it’s the joy of trying crazy stuff that makes life fun.