Finally, I planted some zucchini. Growers, in their excitement, often plant things too deep. I wasn’t planting squash in hills; just a furrow from the hoe and three seeds every two feet. I back dressed the seed with the tip of the hoe. If seeds are too deep -- beans, carrots, squash – the sprouting plant simply can’t get to the surface. The soil was warm, but dry. I wanted to optimize sprouting conditions. I turned on my irrigation. A good drink. Now I shouldn’t hear any complaints. I was worried the sprinkling might bury the seeds further, but, yesterday, with a second light sprinkle, the zucchini is up! How exciting can life get?

Well, even more so, it seems, as, in the afternoon, I went to the blue hive and discovered an entire deep brood box stuffed full of capped honey. Coming out of the winter this hive was the strongest hive in the apiary. In April I took out a frame of brood to juice up the lackluster cinnamon hive next to it. The cinnamon hive perked right up. I will check it for honey stores soon. But the big blue hive got ahead of me, and it swarmed. Swarming set the hive back, as half the bees leave town and the old queen with them, and then their production of new bees is put on hold until the new queen matures. Yet there can be positives. With a lull in the production of bees, the remaining working colony can concentrate on making honey. That’s what happened in the blue hive. Yikes. I could barely pick up the box full of frames. As I took the frames of honey out of the deep brood box, I replaced them with new frames and shuffled some young brood up into the upper box. The young queen was laying eggs just fine in the lower box, but she will not cross solid honey stores which means her “nest” was limited in their home by the over-abundance of honey. She needed space to lay. Many hives become “honey bound” and need adjustments.

I pulled more honey from other hives, found a beautiful super full of comb honey, and got the wealth into the cellar. The forecast was rain. Rain, a good reason to spend the day in the cellar with the extractor, decapping the honey frames, spinning them out in the extractor, and course-screening it into 5-gallon pails. Then to the bottling room. (Read, kitchen.)

I have been sold out of honey for months. This is the first of the new honey. From what I got on my fingers; the taste is out of this world. Remarkable. In this little corner of Orange County our mix of nectars is astonishing. No doubt that’s why Mr. Black Bear loves it so much.

Since that night I blasted a shot of grapeshot off the back stoop over the bear’s head, things have been calm. I was fearful neighboring graduation parties to the south of Beamer Swamp on Decker Drive (love the sound of a good party), would be pushing the bear out of its comfort zone and drive it our way. With me working in the bees, and pulling honey, and opening the boxes, the fragrances of the apiary had to be appealing strong, and I just can’t trust the damned electric fence. Add all this up and I had a bad feeling. I inspected this morning. Clear.

OK. I have clean buckets, clean table, and clean decapping tool, and the stainless-steel extractor is polished and ready, and I am on my way to make honey. A new year. A new vintage. I have a feeling…one of the best.