Man, t'was such a lovely day. Flawless, one might say. The dog had to stay at home, as G planned on purchasing planks, but other than that, flawless. I've not been on a bike for over a year. It's not that far of a ride, really, from one town to the next, I just hate that several segments have no shoulder to speak of and you are at the mercy of countryside drivers on an uneasy country road. It's an up and down region, so I'd pause a few times on the tops to spy if G is on the move yet, so as to plan him passing by while I am riding downwards, possibly on a curve: I wanted to imagine myself as fast and hot as Matrix's Trinity on a Suzuki Hayabusa. If he overtook me while I was on the up... Well, let's say there were joggers who were faster. Families with small children on kiddy bikes. An occasional pedestrian swan. My helmet looks like I'm just leaving a hockey match to go invade Normandy.
Oh, the one part which was not ideal is that we left the rope somewhere and I couldn't really hang my hammock where I wanted it, which resulted in me getting bitten by a bug while I napped in the low grass behind the shed. Not stung, mind. That bitch saw me obstructing it's merry way and saw it fit to literally bite my thigh. It was a small, harmless thing with little pincers, but it did get me up. I may have thrown it away a bit hard. Usually I am more polite when something tries to kill me.
First after a bit of lunch (no matter how much we try to tell the General's mum not to bother cooking), we turned some of the cut-down grass for it to dry. G brought out his tools and set to making hive separation plates with teeny tiny doors. They were adorable. I learned how to heat the little wire in the frame so that the wax sets in, to make a comb foundation. (Precise work. If you botch it, you cut the wax sheet into ribbons and that's it for it.) I only made five, G's mum did the rest, but she said to tell G I made all. I admitted it's impossible to lie to G, as he could instantly tell and besides, five was great for a first-timer. This somehow impressed her, that I was not willing to tell even a harmless lie. I really wonder what these people think of me. I hope they think I am a very curious creature. Who occasionally loses her temper and tries to strangle a zip code area.
Uu, they have kittens! And from a luckless cat, too. It's the poor cat who first lost her mum very early on (so early, that she tends to compulsively suckle on her own tit to compensate for the lack of mother's milk she suffered as a tiny thing), then fell somehow and managed to rip open her stomach and had to have been patched together. But oddly enough, she did manage to conceive, just not deliver. The first kitten suffocated, it was a mess, and the poor mom pleaded for help from humans, so they hurried to the wet and she needed a C-section. Four kittens! Three days old! Ooooh, I tend to pinch all their chubby tiny ears and paws and tails and kiss them all over. they look like dandelion bulbs anyway. The mom cat kept giving me warning looks to stop upsetting them, as then they wanted to suckle and she was exhausted and just wanted to sleep in the adjacent basket. I offed to talk to pigs and pet those. One is a real cuddle-fiend and loves being scratched and tickled. The other not so much. I was warned not to let that one reach my feet, as he may try to bite it. Tried to catch and pet some chickens, too, but those know me by now and run faster.
Ye, people probably think I'm retarded. Autistic, to be politically correct.
Last work well done was getting the hay together and getting it to the cellar of the barn: kids put it on the little waggon and threw it into the barn mid-section, G's mum then threw it to the roof section and I stuffed it to the side of the roof to make room. Never done that before, it's itchy work, but I loved it. I actually love that building. They have tools set aside, buried under decades of hay, which make me feel like I've missed history by THIS much. Tooks for getting wheat clean, tools for making rope, mills and presses, tools with their own names which I only know from Books and museums. G's mum would tell me she had little choice but to be a farm-woman, as they didn't want her to go to school so she wouldn't get any ideas, but I think she makes for a fantastic farm-keeper and she knows everything. It's not as often as she thinks, that someone just knows how to do everything. From fixing a tractor to making flawless pie, it's not a given. I said since knowing her, my mum is also trying to act as someone who can easily solve daily practical problems. Mine was raised to be a lady, meaning someone else will solve her problems for her, but it's so cute when she tells of her little achievements, like, today I managed to pour gasoline into the little carry-container! (Needed for the mowers. Something dad would do routinely, so she never even noticed it.)
Anyway. G will still be asleep awhile, catching up on it. His fourteen-hour shifts may sound a good idea on paper, but they are a killer. (He had plans to go hunting. Right. You have to get up at 3:30 to go hunting. He's still halfway to a coma at 7:30.) We have to go check the baby hives later and then back to G's parents' to finish the separation plates. I overheard his dad saying he had another hive set aside for G, but I think that was the swarm I was supposed to get, before C19 distracted our intentions. No matter. I'd love to have another family, even if it is in just a regular hive. They're collecting like crazy. Akacia is about to start any day now. That is by far the best honey. Well, except for chestnut. And maybe rosemary. Any Mediterranean flavour. But a great honey.
Oh, the one part which was not ideal is that we left the rope somewhere and I couldn't really hang my hammock where I wanted it, which resulted in me getting bitten by a bug while I napped in the low grass behind the shed. Not stung, mind. That bitch saw me obstructing it's merry way and saw it fit to literally bite my thigh. It was a small, harmless thing with little pincers, but it did get me up. I may have thrown it away a bit hard. Usually I am more polite when something tries to kill me.
First after a bit of lunch (no matter how much we try to tell the General's mum not to bother cooking), we turned some of the cut-down grass for it to dry. G brought out his tools and set to making hive separation plates with teeny tiny doors. They were adorable. I learned how to heat the little wire in the frame so that the wax sets in, to make a comb foundation. (Precise work. If you botch it, you cut the wax sheet into ribbons and that's it for it.) I only made five, G's mum did the rest, but she said to tell G I made all. I admitted it's impossible to lie to G, as he could instantly tell and besides, five was great for a first-timer. This somehow impressed her, that I was not willing to tell even a harmless lie. I really wonder what these people think of me. I hope they think I am a very curious creature. Who occasionally loses her temper and tries to strangle a zip code area.
Uu, they have kittens! And from a luckless cat, too. It's the poor cat who first lost her mum very early on (so early, that she tends to compulsively suckle on her own tit to compensate for the lack of mother's milk she suffered as a tiny thing), then fell somehow and managed to rip open her stomach and had to have been patched together. But oddly enough, she did manage to conceive, just not deliver. The first kitten suffocated, it was a mess, and the poor mom pleaded for help from humans, so they hurried to the wet and she needed a C-section. Four kittens! Three days old! Ooooh, I tend to pinch all their chubby tiny ears and paws and tails and kiss them all over. they look like dandelion bulbs anyway. The mom cat kept giving me warning looks to stop upsetting them, as then they wanted to suckle and she was exhausted and just wanted to sleep in the adjacent basket. I offed to talk to pigs and pet those. One is a real cuddle-fiend and loves being scratched and tickled. The other not so much. I was warned not to let that one reach my feet, as he may try to bite it. Tried to catch and pet some chickens, too, but those know me by now and run faster.
Ye, people probably think I'm retarded. Autistic, to be politically correct.
Last work well done was getting the hay together and getting it to the cellar of the barn: kids put it on the little waggon and threw it into the barn mid-section, G's mum then threw it to the roof section and I stuffed it to the side of the roof to make room. Never done that before, it's itchy work, but I loved it. I actually love that building. They have tools set aside, buried under decades of hay, which make me feel like I've missed history by THIS much. Tooks for getting wheat clean, tools for making rope, mills and presses, tools with their own names which I only know from Books and museums. G's mum would tell me she had little choice but to be a farm-woman, as they didn't want her to go to school so she wouldn't get any ideas, but I think she makes for a fantastic farm-keeper and she knows everything. It's not as often as she thinks, that someone just knows how to do everything. From fixing a tractor to making flawless pie, it's not a given. I said since knowing her, my mum is also trying to act as someone who can easily solve daily practical problems. Mine was raised to be a lady, meaning someone else will solve her problems for her, but it's so cute when she tells of her little achievements, like, today I managed to pour gasoline into the little carry-container! (Needed for the mowers. Something dad would do routinely, so she never even noticed it.)
Anyway. G will still be asleep awhile, catching up on it. His fourteen-hour shifts may sound a good idea on paper, but they are a killer. (He had plans to go hunting. Right. You have to get up at 3:30 to go hunting. He's still halfway to a coma at 7:30.) We have to go check the baby hives later and then back to G's parents' to finish the separation plates. I overheard his dad saying he had another hive set aside for G, but I think that was the swarm I was supposed to get, before C19 distracted our intentions. No matter. I'd love to have another family, even if it is in just a regular hive. They're collecting like crazy. Akacia is about to start any day now. That is by far the best honey. Well, except for chestnut. And maybe rosemary. Any Mediterranean flavour. But a great honey.
0 comments:
Post a Comment