As the sun set on another year I took a look back at my compilation of photos. I like doing this because it jogs my memory of things I'd forgotten to share, mostly things that didn't require an entire post but in some way merit mentioning. There is never a dull moment on an urban farm.
Sometimes things happen. One fine summer day while working in the garden, hens clucking and scratching for bugs, I noticed one trying to lay her egg on the ground in the run. I figured no big deal, I'll just let her do her thing. Hours passed and still poor little hen had not passed that pesky egg. So I headed to the house and to Google to see if I could find any information on why she might be acting in this manner. The results was unmistakably "egg bound" so I followed instructions giving my hen a nice warm water bath and a thorough abdomen massage but to no avail. After two hours I dried her off tucking her away in a small dog kennel with a heating pad placed on "low" for the night. In the morning my poor little girl had passed from exhaustion. I can't explain this phenomenon but it happens. It was a sad day.
On a happier note, I learned how to fly fish! I'm not sure if I can be sustained with the tiny fish I caught (these were catch and release) but I sure had fun. We stayed at Canyon River Ranch and used guides from Red's Fly Shop who are located on the property next door. Both have excellent facilities and many activities to keep you entertained.
There was another passing in our family as well. One of my hives died out. I don't know the cause, I can only rule things out. It wasn't mites and it wasn't starvation. The colony was a little weak in numbers and in the end I believe it was moisture but that may have just been a symptom of a weak colony not being able to properly ventilate the hive. My colleagues at Snoqualmie Valley Beekeepers (of which I am now the Secretary) tell me that a new beekeeper can expect a 50% loss the first year. I don't like those numbers but, in my case, they ring true. The upside of this loss is that I got to harvest the honey that they left behind. Well, not all of it. Most of it and the empty combs are in the freezer awaiting to be used for the surviving colony and for the new colonies I will purchase for delivery in the Spring. This will give them a head start on building up for the busy gathering they'll be doing come nectar flow. So what to do with the honey we harvested? We used some for eating, some for experimenting (think adding flavors), and some to make mead. The bottle above is just about ready to rack. We won't know for a few months if it's worth drinking!
The island of Maui in December. A world away from the cold and pre-Christmas chaos. Just what the doctor ordered to wrap up a fabulous and prosperous year. My family's Christmas present, we spent twelve days exploring this diverse island. Surfing Goat Dairy, Ali'i Kula Lavender Farm, and Tedeschi Winery were stopping points on our eco-tour of upcountry Maui. Other days were spent on a small patch of beach in the photo above. Out in the distance past the large stretch of sand you can spot a road traversing a large lava flow that pours into the Pacific. That's the King's road. At the head of that road you can spot a white dot of sand. THAT was our Paradise. The area surrounding that magnificent lava flow (about 1790) is an underwater preserve where no boats are allowed. No cars or foot traffic are allowed in and among the lava flow. It was here, just outside the preserve boundary that I gathered a gallon of pure Ahihi Bay water. I took this water to our rental house in Haiku and dehydrated it into pure flakes of white salt. I've made salt from waters of the Puget Sound too. You can see the process here. It is quite easy.
So, besides all the other projects and happenings around UrbanTerra (did you notice the name change?) these were tucked in among them rounding out a rather productive year. Tonight as I write this, snuggled by the fire and sipping a dram of fabulous Scotch, I am dreaming and scheming of new projects to start as soon as the ground thaws.
