I should preface this post with the fact that we are city folk trying to figure out country life as a past time, which, as I write the words, I hear God laughing. There is definitely no such thing as part-time farming. Nature has a funny way of keeping us very humble around here. Mike started a new hobby (translated agricultural tax exemption) about six months ago. We are now proud, yet not so smart beekeepers. This weekend, Mike wanted to add to the bees so he drove down to get a few new hives and set them up. He put the old frames for the hives that needed cleaning in the barn and took the new bees to their new home. We can’t wait for the honey that we’ll soon harvest. Evidently, the bees couldn’t wait either.
Today, my cowboy decided to stop by and check on a few things with the garden and the new bees. Garden gets a B+ so far for watering and planting—the only thing wrong is we haven’t figured out how to grow weeds shorter than the plants. So, that said, all is well there. He then went inside the barn and no less than 1,000 bees were “stealing” the old honey from the empty hives, yes, inside the barn. He made a few quick calls and it turns out it is rodeo time. You put the old frames on the back of the four wheeler, smoke them out as best you can, and ride like the wind until not a bee dares hold on for his life. Sort of like the bucking bronco, with Mike’s four wheeler as the bronco. I am hoping you can conjure up the scene in your mind’s eye. He is a maverick, that man of mine. So all’s well on the bee front tonight, but we returned home to our quarterly froggy serenade.
Seriously, about three or four times a year for three consecutive nights, we have frogs that come back to our “cement pond” and do their thing. It might be cute if it weren’t right outside our bedroom window. Being creatures who like privacy, they wait for the dark, and party way into the night. Life is good for frogs, but not for anyone who appreciates a decent night’s sleep. Years ago, we decided to call the professionals. You guessed it: we asked the kids to get a paper sack and catch the noisy frog. We thought a one-dollar bounty per head was a fair price, thinking we might be out $3, if they each were lucky enough to catch one. But, it was for such a worthy cause. Ten minutes later, the kids came in with over 20 frogs caught and they were still croaking like an orchestra. The remaining frogs were singing, too. So alas, we stopped the madness and paid the kids and resolved ourselves to another noisy evening of partying frogs. Nature definitely has a funny way of keeping us humble around here.
Signed, Sleepless in Houston
The bee keeper
The cement pond (that’s our bedroom window prime for hearing frog concerts)
I will add a little theme music. You’ll have to imagine the rest…