Bee Diary: July 17, 2010

Summer                                    Waxing Grandchildren Moon

Hive inspections today focused on the need for additional honey supers.  The package colony had the third hive box about 80% drawn out with honey and brood, so I stuck a honey super on it.  The divide has two hive boxes.  As Dave suggested when he came out a week ago Tuesday, I had left the queen excluder off.  I put it back on today, carefully checking both honey supers to see if the queen had gone up into them.  She hadn’t.  At least I don’t think so.  She has a mark and I didn’t see one on any of the bees, but I did see a large, unusual looking darker backed bee.  Sort a bee goliath.  Probably a drone.  The divide bees have not done much in the two empty supers, so we’ll have to see.  I may stick a frame from a parent colony super in one of the divide’s supers.

The parent colony has done a good bit of work.  One honey super filled up a while ago.  The second one I put on with it has begun to take on weight.  The other two have a good bit of drawn comb, but not much weight yet.  A filled honey super weighs around 50 pounds, plenty for this guy to lift.

I did take one full frame out of the honey super already filled and replaced it with an empty one.  The full frame will be part of the Woolly meal on Monday night.  Just what we’ll use it for is not yet decided.

Home Again

Summer                                           Waxing Grandchildren Moon

The grandkids have returned home to Denver.  Their parents only have a couple of weeks now before they return to their teaching jobs, Jon in elementary art and Jen in EFL elementary work in an experimental school.  Ruth and Gabe will return to child care at Humphrey’s, across the street from their house.  Ruth will only be there two weeks because she starts pre-school this year.  Watch out pre-school.

(Denver at night from space)

Gotta go.  The weather’s reasonable and the bees need attention.  See you on the backside of the hive inspections.

The Day After

Summer                                                Waxing Grandchildren Moon

The grandkids went to see Hermann the German in New Ulm, then dropped to Le Mars, Iowa, the home of Blue Bunny Ice Cream and the National Museum of Ice Cream.  Sounds good right now.  Their parents plan, bravely, to camp out in Nebraska.  I would not be surprised if they decided to go ahead and spring for a motel room.

Finished translating my sentences from English to Latin.  I’m a bit rusty.  I can tell this will have to be an every week thing as long as I want to get better.  I suppose there may come a time in the distant future when I may have it embedded somewhere, but that day seems a long way off right now.

Lack of sleep and general grandchildren induced exhaustion made me feel a little down, but two naps today seem to have perked me up.

On the morrow I return to the bee hives, have my phone meeting with Greg the Latin tutor and begin prepping for the invasion of the Mammoth herd here at Artemis Hives.

Museum Work

Summer                               Waxing Grandchildren Moon

In Hopi culture Ruth would now have a total of 8 kachina dolls, each in a place of honor and used to explain to her the symbolism of the Kachina personated by Hopi dancers during their 6 months residence on the mesas.  Gabe would not yet be included in a kiva, but that time would not be far off.  In these ways the Hopi faith tradition passed from parents to children.

I had four people at the kachina doll spotlight and two on my tour.  Plenty in my world, perhaps not in the museum’s.  Lance and his mom, Jan, went on the tour.  We started with the kachina, moved to the wonderful housescreen from a Tlingit clan house and stopped by the Olmec mask, the ball game clay figure and the Valdivian owl, a newby like the kachina and the housescreen.  From there we saw the Lakota woman’s fancy dress with its turtle motif and looked in general at the objects there, then ended with Whiteman’s wonderful modern piece.  The heart line idea, that a line connects your heart to your mind and that it’s shape reveals your ethical and personal development hit home.  Jan asked Lance how he thought his heartline was.  Profound.

Back home, tired and ready for a nap.

Travel Days

Summer                                          Waxing Grandchildren Moon

As the grandchildren moon waxes, Ruth and Gabe are somewhere south of Andover, headed back home to Denver.  They left about an hour ago taking their parents with 07-12-10_ruth-and-gabethem.  Like most leave takings, this one was bittersweet.  We will not see Ruth’s smile, nor hear her mischievous giggle; the house no longer rings with mymamameee as Gabe, eternally seeking his mother tries to orient himself to the star of his young life.

We will not be able to talk with Jon and Jen about their lives, their joys, the things that matter to them and therefore to us.  The playhouse has lost its enlivener and no one will run up and down the slope in our front yard, shrieking and reveling in the sheer pleasure of walking barefoot in dewy grass.  No uh-oh or banana grabbed and eaten, one half in one  hand one in the other.

There is, too, though the truth of lives disrupted by travel, part of its purpose, but also part of its drain.  The dogs lives changed, and they could not see why.  Everyone’s lives are not at their smoothest because routines become difficult to realize and routine soothes, calms.  So, for Gabe and Ruth, Jon and Jen, they now head back to the garden, to the plans for renovation of their home, to the friends both have made over their years in Denver.  Familiar beds, couches, dogs, food, neighbors.

When Kate and I traveled in Europe, we hit on the idea of a travel day (p.s. Kate reminded me that was her idea.), a day when we just rested, weren’t trying to see some new destination, this museum or that market, this famous street or the Opera House.  This kind of intense, in the home up close visit could, as Kate said, use a travel day.  We’re getting ours today, but when we wake up tomorrow, there will be no mymamameee or Ruth crawling down the hall in her blanket.  And we will miss them.

OK. Here’s The Guy To Blame.

Summer                            Waxing Grandchildren Moon

Ruth and Gabe have napped, like Grandpop and Granma.  This means they have considerably more energy.  Gabe covered a complete circuit of the patio to front door run, moving as fast as his stubby little legs and slightly forward leaning motor could take him.  I was in hot pursuit.  By hot I mean dew point that is absurd from a Minnesota perspective.  Gabe did not seem deterred.

Ruth and Grandma, in other news, had feathered boas and performed various short versions of 1920’s flapper era music.  The show moved upstairs only a moment ago.

Jon has the trailer attached to his car.  It will travel to Colorado and not return except under unusual circumstances.  He needs it for his remodeling and his fledgling custom ski business.  It’s absence frees up space in the third garage bay.  I know, I can’t believe we have three garage bays either.  If you come to our house from the west, it looks like we are pets of three internal combustion driven machines who have the big home.

Due to a spotlight event tomorrow and an America’s public tour immediately after, I’ve had to study while the grandkids are here.  This morning I read the material on the butterfly maiden kachina and this afternoon I read about Tlingit culture and house screens.  The Hopi faith tradition fascinated me as I learned more about it.  They have a tradition of peaceful living, living that consciously seeks a balance with the natural world and all living things.  The Tlingits have a similar perspective.

In listening to a set of lectures titled Religions of the Axial Age, I’ve learned that it may have been Zoroaster who pushed Western culture away from a natural, earth centered faith and toward a pantheon, adherence and propitiation of which had a direct correlation to eternal life.  Which was, at least according to this guy, also a Zoroastrian notion.  By developing the notion of a messiah, an end-times judge, and, along with it, the idea of an apocalypse, Zoroaster stuck us with the linear understanding of time.

(a tower of silence where zoroastrians exposed their dead to vultures and decay)

Give me the kachinas who come back from their home in the San Francisco Peaks for a six month period beginning around the winter solstice ready to help out.  Makes much more sense to me.

Como Zoo. Wow.

Summer                                  Waxing Grandchildren Moon

I gotta get out more often.  They’ve added a whole new wing plus more conservatory at Como Zoo.  The whole place looks all grown up.  It’s now a long ways from the big cats strolling back and forth back and forth in the small iron barred prison cells.

A new polar bear exhibit allows for the possibility of a family unit, a mama bear, a little bear and a daddy bear kept over in his own enclosure so he won’t have to say, “Oops, honey.  I ate the kid.”  It’s a great display and the two males there now wandered around looking uncomfortable in the heat like we were.

The dew point has hit 81.  81.  I mean.  81.  I don’t know whether this is global warming, but it is certainly Andover warming.

Public Art

Summer                                                Waxing Grandchildren Moon

Ruth surprised me after I took a shower this morning.  She talked to me while I got ready to go into the MIA.  I have psoriasis on my knees.  She saw it, and asked what it was.  I told her it was a disease.  “You’re gonna die!” she said.  “Yep.” I said, “But not from this.”  “You’re silly, Ruth.”  “So are you Grandpop!”  We agreed we were both silly.

After that unusual morning conversation, I headed into the MIA for Glenn Keitel’s presentation about public art.  He talked about the process of conceiving and selling the book, presenting a book proposal and having the whole process revised after Adventure Press of Cambridge, Minnesota bought it.

(Theodore Wirth Park)

He has a website, www.scenefromthesidewalk.com, which has not gone live yet, but it will have printable tours of various public art installations in both Minneapolis and St. Paul.  Glenn has a grandfatherly presence and showed in a keen interest in public art that will appeal to children.

The Summer Camp notion added a few more names to the roster and made its first foray into the official side of the MIA with the use of the Friend’s Community Room.

Afterward a few of us ate lunch with Glenn.  Tom Byfield bought Glenn and me lunch.  Thanks again, Tom.

Home.  Nap.  Up. Workout.  The usual.

Obama Loses His Luster. Why That’s A Good Thing.

Summer                                               Waxing Grandchildren Moon

The Colorado Teacher’s union says Obama has lost his luster.  Jen, union rep for her school, said so last night over sushi.  That would be a good generalization for the country as a whole.  Obama has lost his luster.  Let me tell you why that’s a good thing.

Part of Obama’s luster was his election as our first president of color.  Though his election represented a break through, it represented a break through not for Barack Obama but for the United States itself.  In the end Obama happened to be a person of presidential ambitions who was of color.  The quest for power has never known a color barrier, just access to power in certain places and certain eras.  The Mongols wanted power in China, so they conquered China and created the Yuan dynasty.  Likewise, the Manchus, an artificial amalgam of northerners, wanted in power in China, conquered the Ming dynasty and created their own, Qing dynasty.  Patrice Lumumba.  Ida Amin.  Kwame Nkrumah.  Nelson Mandela.  Felipe Calderon.  Pol Pot.

Part of Obama’s luster came from the dismal, even embarrassing governance of his predecessor, G.W. Bush, just your good ole boy in the oval office.  Obama would bring in the non-Dick Cheney’s, the anti-Rumsfelds.  This again has nothing to do with Obama himself, rather it relates to the person he replaced.  Again, from this perspective, anyone would do.

Part of Obama’s luster came from his victory in a long and hard fought primary battle, a battle that included the first viable female candidate for the Presidency, Hillary Clinton, and that stretched on well into the year of the Presidential election itself.  Though this begins to get to his character, he can tough it out over the long haul, confronting risks head-on, it is still nothing unusual.  Presidential candidates have to first win the confidence of their own party before they can have a shot at convincing the whole country.

Part of his luster, too, comes from a glamorous wife and two beautiful daughters.  This, too, begins to speak to his character, but we expect our Presidents to have families, so it’s not unusual in any particular way.

Luster fades, the Oscar becomes burnished as does the Olympic medal.  The carefully orchestrated rise of celebrity lasts for only moments in most peoples lives.  The rush of romance must give way to a longer, more sturdy and hardy love.  The lilies in my garden send up their three-foot stalks, dazzle me with their colors and fragrance, then quickly the flowers disappear.  But.  The lily remains.  It takes in food, stores it in the bulb, throws off more plants through expansion of the bulb, bulbils that grow on the stalk and even occasionally from seed.

This is why Obama’s loss of luster is a good thing.  Now he has a chance to send down stores of wisdom and experience gained in office to his staffers, his cabinet, his party.  Now he can begin to govern as Barack Obama, the man who would govern as a center-left president, not as Barack Obama, conqueror of Hillary, nor as the first black man to be President, not as the anti-Bush and not with the reflected glamor of wife and daughters.  Is he in a more difficult situation now?  Yes.  He has spent political capital at an exorbitant rate to pass the health care reform legislation, to get more bail out money, to push home some re-regulation of the financial services industry and in an attempt to pass energy legislation.

His party faces a difficult election round  thanks to the fractious politics of all the things mentioned here and the unsteady economy and the legacy wars, especially the one in Afghanistan he has made his own.  And yet.  This is the time the man can break out from behind the self-preening of those of us who elected him in part as a black man.  This is the time the man can break out from comparisons to G.W. Bush, flattering or otherwise, and create the reality of his governance style.  This, more than any other, is Barack Obama’s time.  I for one wish him well.

Families

Summer                                              Waxing Grandchildren Moon

 

Gabe and Ruth have broad palates.  Tonight Ruth ate sushi, tempura shrimp and a whole dish full of tempura vegetables as did Gabe.  They also wolfed down tempura ice-cream.  Afterward, Ruth wanted to put on a play in an ampitheatre located behind the Osaka Restaurant.  We waited awhile for her to decide on a performance, but the show, in this case, did not go on.  Maybe tomorrow in her playhouse.

Families are magical and mysterious, the vessels proven to travel through time intact.  We create them often with little realization of the long tail such action has, but consider the genetic chain linking you to the generation before you and the one before that and the one that crossed the ocean and the one that came out of Africa and the one that links you to mitochondrial Eve.

They find us at our most intimate, most troublesome, most winsome, most ugly.  The family collects bad acts and good, favors and betrayals, puts them in the alembic of an extended web of relationships and distills out the future.  Miracles are never more than this.

Our own family, gathered in part here right now, is no different, not special or unique, but no less special or unique than any other.  Ruth laughs, Jon wonders, Jen ponders, Gabe opens and closes, Grandma hugs and Grandpop writes.  The things we do, the people we are.