Notes From Near the Crossing

Recent progress on the house has been up and down. On the up side is the ceiling, where D. continues to install basswood paneling. Also note the stereo speakers in the kitchen ceiling, which sound great connected to an industrial-strength radio that D. made from parts he found at a junkyard (seriously). Down low, in the mechanical room, is the control center for the radiant in-floor system of tubes. These will distribute warm water under the floors and supply heat if the masonry heater's output isn't sufficient. D. has readied the controls in anticipation of the plumbers' return, which should occur this coming week. The progress of water in and out of these pipes and valves, both seen and unseen, in combination with the pressure tank, pump, water heater, and multiple water filters--not to mention the addition of custom heating elements, like the copper coil in the masonry heater and a future solar hot-water pre-heater--is too complex for any mortal to grasp. Luckily, D. possesses superhuman powers of logic and has it all figured out.

And below is a photo of the house from the path on the other side of the river, with crop of wild parsnips in the foreground, taken 7/13/07:

A month ago D. removed two frames from one of the beehives to harvest our first honey since the hives were established more than a year before. In the photo below, he's using a heated knife to cut the caps off the honeycomb to release the honey (this is done on both sides of each frame).

We do have a centrifugal honey extractor, which D. bought used along with the knife, hives, smoker, and other sundry supplies from a fellow who was hanging up his beekeeper's suit for good. However, the extractor, an old galvanized drum with four blades (to hold the frames) inside plus a dusty motor, doesn't look very sanitary, and even after evicting the spiders might take some effort to restore. Plus, we love messy kitchen experiments. So D., W. (who was visiting), and I scraped the remaining honeycomb onto layers of cheesecloth that we'd stretched out over the top of a big bowl. The cheesecloth filtered out the wax, plus most of the bee parts. (A few unidentifiable brown bits add character to our honey.) The honey took a long time to drip through the cloth--or it seemed a long time to W. and me--so near the end we gathered the edges of the cheesecloth together to make a gooey ball, then squeezed and twisted to wring out the last of the honey. 

Amazingly, each frame yielded over a quart of honey, and since the first experiment, D. has repeated the process, taking another two frames to share with family.

We might be biased, but we think the honey is especially delicious, thick and fragrant. Besides licking it off our fingers during processing, we've eaten it plain on toast and used it instead of sugar when baking pies, muffins, and cakes.