Life Writing: Beekeeping

I remember watching Dad walk though Grandma E's field sowing Vetch seed because he read the bees would make good honey off of it.  You see, one of Dad's hobbies was beekeeping.  His hobby became a hazard in our lives when it was time to extract honey.  But, it was also a freedom when we could watch with awe the bees in the observation hive.  

Dad's observation hive was under the Osage Orange tree in the front yard.  This tree is also known by the common name bodark, an altered version of the French "bois d'arc".  We also called it the "horse apple" tree.  This was a dangerous location as the thorns of the tree are painful and the horse apples hurt when they fall on you.  

We normally didn't check in on the bees during the winter as they would be balled up trying to stay warm but spring time was a different story.  Those worker bees would be dancing and gathering nectar while the drones just lazed about.  We could watch through the glass as the workers drew out the honey comb and filled it with pollen or nectar.  Then, they would cap over their food storage.  

There was an added excitement when we were able to spot the queen.  She was slightly larger than the other workers with an extended abdomen.  She stayed busy laying eggs.  If the honey comb cell had an egg in it, it would be capped over so the egg would hatch and develop.  Bees are pretty efficient at keeping things organized.  Rarely would there be brood (developing larvae), pollen, and honey intermixed on a frame.  

Late summer was when we would harvest the honey from the hives.  This was an activity that took place inside and by hand.  Dad, Mom, A, and T all took turns at the extractor.  Yes, I took a turn or two also but not near as many as they did.  The extractor was a large round tub open on the top with wire baskets on the inside and a turn handle.  Dad would go out to the hive, smoke most of the bees away from the frame, place it in a temporary box and, when the box was full, bring it in the house.  Once in the house, Mom or Dad would cut the caps (which served as a tasty treat) off the honey and place a frame in one of the two baskets of the extractor.  Then, the crank would be turned which caused the wire baskets to go round and round.  As the baskets went faster and faster, the honey would be slung out of the frames and collect in the holding tank.  Mom would then fill the jars from the holding tank.  

It was beautiful sight to see the golden honey in the jar with light glistening off of it.  Some years we would work a booth at the County fair selling the honey.  Though, it was for our own use most of the time.  You see, we didn’t buy much sugar and honey sure does give Kool Aid a unique taste.    Most of the time I was okay with this hobby, it was only when an angry bee jumped on a hand, arm, or face and stung me that I really didn’t like it.