Weeds

They're a menace.

How Sweet Corn You Be?

The Honest Farmette and I helped pick sweet corn this morning for my Uncle. It is delicious, but the bugs made meals of us while we were out there.

My popeye arms have returned to normal after two days of swelling. I went in the hives on Saturday day, despite Friday night's incident, and marked both of my queens with green nail polish. It's not the recommended marker, but it works. In the process, I got some on one queen's wing which may ultimately prove to be fatal, should the worker bees not approve. They may supersede her, and once the new queen is born and mated, they'll simply stop feeding the old one. I'll go in the hives again next week to see if this is the case.

Also nearly had my hands on another wild swarm, but I was told about it while at an art auction and it had moved on before I got to it. Those are the breaks.

Hoe Could I Bee So Foolish!?

The weeds are too big now to effectively hoe without causing collateral to the strawberry plants and their runners so I have to hand weed the rows. The Hoerse still does wonders in the aisles.

A friend is visiting this weekend, and last night I was excited to show her my bees. We went over to the hives, had our head gear on, she stood a few feet back. The lid was sealed with propolis, a sealant created by the bees from tree sap. I tried to pop the top off, but sliced my thumb in the process.

I may have bummed the hive as well, but it could just be that it was already too late in the day to go into the hive. In any event, as soon as I lifted the cover--as soon as I lifted, not even an inch high--a score of bees flew on me stinging my shirt, my arms, and my hat. I took four in the arms, and three on my back through my shirt.

I closed the lid quickly and, with the bees still trying to get me, buzzing angrily much too close to my ears, we retreated to some trees. Bees get confused when you stand under trees so they leave you alone.

The stings didn't hurt so bad, just like pin pricks. But over the next three hours I started to itch in strange places. The palms of my hands. My scalp. My toes. My forearms started to swell, and I had red blotchiness under my armpits on my arm and chest. The redness spread a across my chest and down before I went to sleep.

Now it's the morning. Everything is fine except my forearms, which are still swollen. I'm not sure why they're still like this. Maybe because the blood isn't circulating the venom out. They're just really sore. We'll see how things go. I'm going back in the hive, today. During the day. When it's sunny out. I've learned that lesson. But I had been wondering what a bad beekeeping experience would be like, and that was clearly it. Lessons learned. Curiosity satiated. I hope this never happens again, because it is really not enjoyable at all.

Hoersing Around

The past two days I hit the garden and the field with the Hoerse. Thousands of weeds fell before me and my steed. They'll remember. The massacre on the tilling fields.

Hoetry

The ground is so wet

and the weeds so big

when I pulled today

my feet sank in

A Hoe Lot Of Storm

We've had thunderstorm after thunderstorm this week, keeping me and the Hoerse out of the field. The weeds have now overgrown the center of my strawberries, and pretty much all of the garden. It's not the end of the world, but it is discouraging. We had three inches yesterday afternoon, too. Hopefully two days of sunshine will let me in the field on Friday.

Last Friday was my first farmers market. I had 9 pints of strawberries and a tub of lettuce I sold by the bag. Both items were priced at $3. I sold out on strawberries and sold two bags of lettuce as well. Not a terrible start. My table neighbor said it was the busiest he'd seen things, and I thought it was slow. But this particular market is only 4 weeks old and quite rural. All things considered I think I did well. We'll see how the next one goes.

Yesterday, Tuesday, I tried going to the other market I have my eye on, but the aforementioned T-storm shut it down before it started. Flash flooding kept me from a timely arrival, and when I showed up no one was to be seen. So I drove over to my grandmas and sold her a Grandma Special of lettuce & berries to cover my gas. She was only too pleased.

I only had 4 pints of berries anyway, because one of my rows spent the whole weekend setting out runners instead of new blossoms.

And two quick notes on insects: my bee hives have expanded into their second brood box, which is excellent (each hive only has two brood boxes, all additional boxes, which will be added next year, are going to be honey boxes); and the fireflies are really coming out now, which makes sunsets and the evening dusk even more beautiful. Especially after a late storm like yesterday's.

This post was much too long. More hoeing, less essay, right?

Now Hoe Do You Like That?

I'm through half the field with the Hoerse now, but I got rained out before noon. Have to wait for the ground to dry a bit before using it again. That's alright, there's plenty to hoe by hand. Was supposed to be dry the beginning of this week though. What do weather websites know anyway. I haven't used my irrigation in three weeks, at least.

The Hoerse

All of my tools come compliments of my uncle, who's farm and land I use.

He gave me my two hoes. These are the bread and butter of my weed control. I get in between the strawberry plants, take all the transgressing life out of my rows.

He gave me my first roto-tiller, too. This I used to reform my rows before my first planting. I'd been forced to drive over my ridges as I made them; so I had ridges where before there were none, but the soil was compacted. It's a good machine, but you have to pull it, walking backwards.

The newest and latest tiller though. My goodness. I'm using it for the aisles. It has wheels! It goes forward, and reverse, in both fast and slow speeds! I just walk behind it, ever so slowly, and make sure it doesn't go crazy. On the safety flap that keeps your feet from stepping into the blades, it just says "The Horse."

I Thought I Knew Hoeing...

Then I met my potatoes.

See, in the strawberry field, I just scrape the surface, kill the weeds off young while they can't resist. When there's a big one, perhaps a rogue corn cob colonizing a row, it's just a matter of swinging down harder.

The potatoes require additional dirt so that as they grow they don't become exposed to the light and turn green. It's some heavy duty hoeing and I only did two of the four rows before retreating back to my strawberries. Strawberry hoeing felt like a cool-down after the potatoes.

I've been experiencing some deja vu in the field. I'll wipe some sweat from my brow, take a fresh swing, the clouds will pass overhead just so, and I'll swear it was last Thursday. I'm more than half way through the first full weeding of the field, so maybe it's good to be experiencing deja vu. Every stroke can't be unlike every other.

A Callous Hoe

The first fifteen minutes hoeing I spend thinking about what to write. The next fifteen is spent trying to remember the first fifteen. My brain stops thinking after a half hour.

I'm developing callouses on my hands. I had some, but these ones are getting mondo. When I finished, I stretched my clenched hands, and could feel the skin at the base of my middle finger tearing.

At one point, a glob of mud dislodged by my hoeing, slowly rolled down the ridge towards my feet. It made me jump before I realized what it was. I thought, maybe this is my end. Death by a mud covered Sonic.

First Guest Hoe

The honest farmer says I'm the honest farmette. I think farmess sounds better.

We picked our first batch of strawberries today! They look and taste just like strawberries should.

I also picked snow peas and lettuce for my sandwich for lunch.

I hoed a few of our last rows in preparation for our final major sowing. I'm excited about the cantaloupe!