Expanding The Orchard

We had our first bulk delivery of 11 yards of soil delivered to the new property this week, and in a few days, that pile will be joined by 12 yards of alder chips from a local sawmill.  The majority of these piles will be used for the hugelkultur in the orchard and under our berry bushes, though some soil will hopefully form the base of a growing area for tomatoes next year. There's no budget right now to buy more amendments, and the trees need more TLC because we will hope to benefit from them for the next 20 or 30 years.  Case closed.

The delivery truck's arrival took me back to our last property, where the neighbors must certainly have thought we were odd - every year the sound of beeping would accompany the arrival of loads of mulch or gravel or soil delivered to our driveway - depending on the given project.  I'm sure they wondered where it all went. Days would pass while we loaded endless wheelbarrow loads in the evenings, to haul our materials around the back and into the garden. Sometimes we were lucky enough to have volunteers who actually wanted to move gravel and dirt - they were special people! I posted a picture of our load of soil on Facebook, and my former neighbor - a fellow gardener who harvested our garlic for us as we loaded the last moving truck - gave it a thumbs up. She certainly remembers.

Our current orchard includes both plums and cherries. The Italian plums are somewhat self-fertile, but would benefit from the addition of another European Plum variety for fruit set (European and Japanese plums do not cross pollinate). I verified that the nearby small nursery was bringing in bare root Peach Plum trees (a European Plum), and told them I needed 2. Oddly enough, the Bing and Queen Anne cherries that are planted here are not known to cross pollinate, and I believe wild cherry trees and a couple of tiny sour cherry trees in the orchard were the only thing ensuring a crop. We decided to add a Lapin and a Stella Cherry, both of which will essentially cross with every cherry we have. 

Knowing the bare root plants were due to arrive in late November, we had planned ahead and dug 4 holes (3x3x2) with adequate spacing in the area of the original orchard several weekends ago. When the nursery called to say the plants had arrived during the freeze this weekend, we drove over and picked them up, ready to get the tender roots protected in the soil. We wanted to mix some of the newly delivered garden soil and a bit of rabbit manure in with the original soil from the hole to give them a good start, but still encourage the roots to expand outward seeking nutrients in the future. 

I was patting myself on the back for planning ahead, glad we didn't have to try and break frozen ground - and then we came to the realization that those piles of dirt beside our nicely dug holes were quite frozen.  Adrian and I managed to chip apart the hard shell of dirt and ice to mix some of the underlying old dirt together with the new, and we hammered in rebar salvaged from around the property (those that weren't essential to holding up the crazily canted fence posts), so that we have a support to tie the tree to once we have finished tamping and settling the trees in their holes over the next few days. In our area, planting at this time of year generally assures that nature will water in the new tree over the rainy season while it is dormant (and rain is due later this week).  Planting in the spring or summer would require careful watering several times a week to keep a new tree safe from damage from exposure.

The stick across the hole shows us the level of the soil, allowing us to position the fruit tree graft above the soil line, to discourage the root stock from trying to grow.

Planting trees in sub-zero weather? Metal.

Varroa Destructor

My investigation into what happened to our strong, 'ready-for-the-winter' hive is still rather circumstantial. I intend to do more research this winter, and to become involved in the beekeeping community on Vancouver Island. There are local monthly meets after the rush of Christmas is over. It disturbs me greatly, but we may need to start chemically treating hives while we adjust to the reality of keeping bees in our new location and to the current threats to their safety. Hopefully I will find some beekeeping hobbyists who can share their experience and advice on the least invasive, least poisonous ways to help our future colonies remain strong and healthy.

The fact remains that there are not enough bodies, and no visible damage to explain what really happened. That is, after all, the confusing situation with honey bees the world over. I tend to lean towards the idea that a combination of stressors is causing the decline in bee populations. Was the move too much for them? Did someone nearby spray chemicals? Was there some form of infection or spore?  The only obvious answer to our loss that I could find was the ominous presence of varroa mites in the hive.

As we started out in this hobby, and after significant study, I opted to keep bees in a top bar hive - specifically because it was believed the bees were more likely able to exclude varroa in the building of their own comb, and that the open screen bottom which is part of the hive's design means that mites which fall off of bees will fall completely outside the hive. My intent had been to give my colonies the best chance to live naturally with the least amount of interference necessary. My last hive inspection of the small, remaining colony still in short-term residence showed a significant population of varroa mites - which I had not seen at all in our first year on the Mainland in our thorough (every bar out and examined) once or twice-monthly inspections.

The varroa mite is considered one of the biggest dangers to honey bee populations, and its presence in a hive can result in the transmission of disease. Deformed Wing Virus is one of the major concerns for infection, causing wing and abdomen malformation, pupa death, and lifespans of less than 48 hours for those bees affected. Over the summer, I viewed less than a dozen bees with malformed wings, which may even have been a result of the virus being carried by foraging bees returning to the hive. Now, in the remaining comb, I can see the remains of several bees that never completed their emergence, likely indicating the varroa mite population had outnumbered the brood being laid to the point of killing their hosts.

The winter bottom board - taken off to examine the debris which fell through the bottom screen in the time it took for the bees to disappear.  The concentration is below where the brood chamber was located when we prepped the hive for winter.

Up close - the shiny brown ovals are dead mites that have fallen to the bottom of the hive.

You can see the varroa mite latched onto the worker bee in the middle of this picture.

I don't know if the presence of mites in the hive is the cause of our loss, or the result of an otherwise already-weakened colony.  The prior owner of the property was a commercial beekeeper for many years, so that may have contributed to a high mite population in the area. When we arrived on the property, I noted populations of several types of bumble bees and wasps, which traditionally are not affected by the varroa (whose lifecycle is unfortunately so well-synchronized with honey bee brood development). Apparently though, varroa are quite happy to hitch a ride on these local insects and can therefore move about the landscape to areas where they can hope to find a foraging honey bee. 

It Warms You Twice?

The saying goes that heating with wood warms you twice - once when you chop it, and again when you burn it to warm your home.  I might argue that it has been warming us even more than that - say, again when you move it and then when you stack it - I think that makes for 4 warmings at least.

Our questionable firewood odyssey is hopefully over for the year. Perhaps I will regret that statement as we carefully ration the last logs in March or April, or if we finally have to give in and turn on the baseboard heaters when getting up every 3 hours in the night to load the stove no longer seems romantic to me.  We had a final visit from our firewood contact, and politely but firmly told him we would not be needing any more of his services. (Especially easy after we had to cancel plans for the evening because he didn't show up during the day as he had promised.) And no, we would not need him for building a fence. Or identifying mushrooms on our property. Or building us a proper woodshed. Seriously, if you can't show up on time to make a wood delivery, or deliver the amount of wood you've promised, why would you think I would want to hire you for anything else?  Ahem. Anyway.....

Our final load dropped on Friday, and we have had to put a small amount of that apart for immediate and careful burning due to a termite infestation. We took care to examine the wood, and have chucked the questionable pieces to one side to avoid introducing the bugs to our piles or to the nice warm environment of the house. Termite larva is not pretty.

Hauling 1 or 2 loads into the house from the pile each day was staring to become a bit time consuming, not to mention messy. Then, I remembered the brackets we had brought with us from our last home. They hadn't served us properly there, but something in my packrat brain had told me to keep them.

So, with the purchase of a few 2x4s, a few cuts, and a little shove to the outdoor furniture, we found space at the back door, under cover of the roof, and with room for airflow between the house and a nice 5-foot high pile of wood.

Then I hauled a full wheelbarrow load of wood from the pile beside the driveway, around the house, and transferred it back and forth up the stairs while Adrian continued to split the larger pieces...

And Adrian came up with a timely suggestion... 

Two trips with the truck, and both of us managing the transfer meant having a ready supply of wood at the back door for those days when we don't have time to go out to the main pile.

Here's to feeling warm and cozy, and itchy from splinters...and maybe slightly burnt (we're still learning!)

Disappointments

Well, the saying goes that bad things happen in threes, and we've had a few whoppers here in the past few days.

The firewood situation is looking a bit dire, and our 'wood guy,' who was supposed to show up yesterday with the remainder of our order, didn't. Apparently he has laryngitis - at least according to his wife's cryptic phone message. We may be better off not getting another delivery from him, but for all I know, he may just show up anyway. I'm glad I only paid him half.

We got our initial delivery stacked - the front of three rows (the back 2 being the majority of our first 2 cords) - and it is sorely lacking in size for the amount paid....maybe 2/3 of a cord, if we're being generous.

We're also going through our wood faster than I had expected. It's probably not helping that we're new to woodstove management and aren't damping it to slow down the burn as well as we ought.

The new wood splits very nicely. It is indeed good quality - just not the quantity that we agreed on.

Today, while doing a mid-day check on the rabbits, I found that the smallest of the 11-week-old male kits had labored breathing, and looked to be exhausted and in distress. I brought him in by the fire, and could definitely hear crackling in his lungs when I held him to my ear. The nights have just turned quite cold, and I hoped that he might improve in the sheltered warmth. I called a rabbit friend, who agreed that it was probably pneumonia, and we would be needing a round of antibiotics if we hoped to save him. The reality of the situation sank in - butchering day is Saturday. I held him for a short while, and he seemed calm, and then slowly stopped breathing while I cradled him. It was fast. His 2 cage mates have always been bigger and more vital than him, though I did note they seemed to be protecting him this morning when I went out with breakfast and the eagerly awaited morning treat of grain. Goodbye little guy. I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier that you were in trouble.

While I was futzing about with hauling feed and grass out to the rabbits, I took advantage of the clear weather to have a very quick peek into our primary hive. 

In the summer, you can hear the buzz of the colony from several feet away - if you know what you're listening for. We had closed up the floor and checked for stores 3 weeks ago, identified the queen and some new brood, and I felt quite confident that this hive was set for the winter. A couple of nights ago, I noticed that there was limited sound coming from the hive, and last night I tapped the wall purposely, which usually results in an increase of volume from the disturbed bees. 

And I heard nothing.

A flashlight shone in through the entrance holes showed no bees guarding the entrance, and none visible beyond that.

Today, with a sense of dread, I opened the hive to find maybe 200 bees - as opposed to the literally thousands there might be on a warm summer day. No brood. No sign of a queen, and what looked to be a bunch of bees gorging on honey as they chewed the wax cappings off the finished stores. 

A quick look into the secondary hive, the one that I had my doubts about, showed a considerably larger colony and some brood just emerging. No sign of newly laid worker cells. That indicates to me that those emerging workers may be the last of the brood we saw when we tried to transfer some new eggs over (it's 21 days to emergence for a worker). I was moving fast, since it was only 10 degrees at the height of the afternoon. I closed the hive up, and left well enough alone.

As the darkness and temperature fell, I donned my beekeeping veil and gloves, and went out to my formerly strong colony - and pulled most of the frames from the hive. There are still bees inside and I didn't have the heart to leave them without food for however many days they have left, but I'm also not willing to risk robbers stealing the honey that they worked so hard for. The remaining girls won't likely last long in the cold with their numbers too few to regulate the inside temperature. There is no large pile of bodies on the bottom screen, no sign of damage from rodents, or broken comb that might identify robbing activities. The colony is simply gone.

Not the harvest I wanted.

This definitely came as a surprise. I will continue to monitor our remaining hive, but I fear that they too will be gone within weeks as they age. For now, I will examine my bottom board and the hive body for more information in full light, and carefully examine the comb as I salvage the honey that was supposed to see the colony through the winter. In spring, we will have to start again.

First Frost

A Touch of Frost

The weather report says that it's 6 degrees outside, but the deck is seeming a bit frosty - as in, I slipped walking to the door. Why have I been outside after 11 at night in the pitch black and cold you ask? Well, Joe the wood guy - the one who said it was too wet, then called back to make sure we still wanted the wood - after I called several times with no answers - who then called after another period of silence to explain he had been in bed with the flu for a week.... well, he called at 9:30 this morning, to verify our location and tell me he would be by with wood. Today. And we would be very happy. He had to pawn his computer for gas money to go and *get* the wood. Yeah. We didn't hear from him all day, and I had begun to assume there would be another call in a few days with another reason for delay. He just left a few minutes ago, calling at 10:15 when he was turning on to our rural road. He was a funny guy, but was trying to pawn off his pickup truck (maybe) 3/4 of a cord, as being worth $200 - when I could *show* him the 2 cords of already purchased and stacked wood right there beside the driveway (minus what we've used over a few cold weeks). Really. It's. Right. There. That makes me feel a bit frosty myself. A cord of wood is supposed to measure 4x4x8, and I guarantee by the time we stack it, it will be sorely lacking. He did bring us a few stumps for splitting wood, so that will help us in our wood pile management.

Our neighbor has fairly simply said he will fell whatever trees we would like, because 'it's the neighborly thing to do,' so hopefully we will somehow barter with him to help us stock up with our own wood for next year's fire season, and get some better sun exposure on the property while we're at it. It's hard to know who to take at face value, when you've been getting the runaround. I don't like confrontation and I don't want to snub a neighbor, but I also come from a background where labor has value, and I'm willing to pay or trade with someone I like and can trust to do the work. What to do? It will be interesting to see how we manage to deal with actually getting things done and feeling like everyone was well-treated in the bargain. How many dozen eggs can you trade for felling 20 trees? In reality, I hope to ask for his help in getting the trees down, and his patience in teaching us proper handling techniques to manage cutting lengths with our own chainsaw before splitting. I see a hydraulic splitter rental in our future.

Our other neighbor actually came by to borrow milk in the dark (which is relative, when the sun is setting at 5 p.m.), and we've advised him to check back regarding the rabbits we will be butchering, and told him we'd like to have him and his family for dinner sometime. Hopefully, a 'test' rabbit will encourage them to buy or barter for rabbit meat in the future, and no real harm done if they don't like working with it.

While we were considering what trees to take down, some of them were happily shedding branches in a heavy windstorm we had this past week. Power was out all over the Island, and we just missed losing ours by a block or two. Hydro was out working on lines just down the road.

We're also preparing to *add* some trees. 2 new plums and 2 cherries, to offer better cross pollination for the existing trees in the orchard. The nursery is due to have the bare root stock in by the end of the month, so we've been digging our holes in case the ground freezes and makes that a problem. Planting fruit trees in the fall means that Mother Nature takes care of watering them in, and we just have to protect them from hungry deer and elk wandering through.

Our location options are somewhat limited, but taking down some of the evergreen trees along the property line will benefit the orchard, and so we're adding them to the existing fruit tree plantings to the southeast of the house. Adrian started a couple of the holes last weekend, hitting a layer of heavy clay. With a bit of exposure during the week, we were able to complete digging the first 2 holes as well as completing our second set of holes this past weekend. The average size is 2 1/2 feet deep, by 3 feet wide, and it took longer than you would think. At least we know if we want to work on a pond in our future, there should be enough clay soil on site to help fashion the bottom of the basin! We continued laying cardboard around the trees, in preparation for dumps of soil and alder chips. We can take our time during breaks in the winter weather, transferring that to the areas under the trees. I have daffodil and snowdrop bulbs just waiting to go into the ground as soon as some of the hugel berms are ready.

Dig!

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

Well, we did have a break in the weather on the weekend, but our intention to mow (okay - *my* intention and Adrian's less-than-enthusiastic agreement to mow) was thwarted by clouds and a lack of a breeze.  There were a few hours of blue sky, and the sun definitely made an appearance, but the grass remained beautifully studded with shiny drops of water. No go for the mowing.

So instead, we managed to get a few projects under our respective belts and chatted with the neighbors who we've been trying to get acquainted with since we moved in (it's difficult knowing which of the long driveways with No Trespassing signs out here will end at the home of someone who's happy you ignored the sign....) A neighbor from across the road was visiting the house next to us while I was out breaking up kindling, so after he stopped to chat for a bit, I unofficially invited us next door, armed with jars of black currant jam. Turns out, we live near some nice folk, both families would be interested to try rabbit meat and would love to buy eggs from us next year.  We're all currently paying $7/doz for organic free-range eggs at the store, and they see the value in paying us for our time and feed bill instead!

As the season is changing on the property, so have the chores.  The garden is basically in a holding pattern - waiting to be harvested (carrots, lettuce, beets, kale) or waiting to be top-dressed with some rabbit manure and wood ash to amend the rather lifeless soil over the winter months (shhhh... I don't count all of the chickweed seeds). Time to look at some minor building projects.

The garden came with a small greenhouse - the roof of which had not fared well during the snows of last winter. The intention is to save up for some rigid plastic sheets for the roof next year, but for now a break in the rain gave us a chance to throw a piece of salvaged heavy-duty plastic over the ripped roof and staple it in place. The plastic was from our collapsed hoop house project, and had helped in our transfer of the rabbits in the U-Haul before serving as temporary rain shelter for them when we moved.  It was definitely a 2-person job, and it isn't pretty, so I shall not offend you with a picture. At least the rain should be kept out and the tools inside will now be less likely to rust. With a bit of jinking, I think my seed starting will be possible out there, and my thrifted grow light shelves will just barely fit the table along one side with a bit of creative carpentry.

We've been making a go of collecting used, free pallets in town for some minor projects in the yard - their main use up to now being to get our firewood off the wet ground. I had set aside several of the cleaner pallets, and made sure that they all showed marks identifying them as heat-treated (HT), rather than risking they had been fumigated.

And with our handy-dandy zip ties (really, they rate very close to duct tape and WD-40 in overall usefulness), we played around with their orientation until we managed to build a 2-compartment composting area - finishing it off with some decking screws and a couple of orphaned shelving uprights to tie the back of the unit together. This is quite rudimentary I realize, but it is raised on a high spot for drainage, and has already given us a convenient spot for cage cleanings, stove ash, kitchen scraps, and several layers of the maple leaves which are finally falling. It's close enough to the house that I don't mind running out in the rain to dump vegetable peelings, and far enough away that it won't funnel rodents into the laundry room. The slats allow for air circulation, and a tarp over top of the pile will regulate the rainwater added. We've started our pile on one side; I will fork over the pile into the second chamber in the spring, and depending on how many earthworms and insects volunteer, and how well the pile heats up, we should have compost for feeding our transplants next May and June. I'll be building more bins as pallets can be acquired and locations permit, so that we can use all of the weeds, leaves, and animal wastes available to us to make better garden soil in the future.

As the grass dies back, we've also been discovering more cast-off debris in the woods. A few weekends ago, we realized there were several towers of plastic buckets fallen over and covered with leaves and brambles. We're slowly reclaiming them, and breaking down our large eyesore useful pile of tree limbs and cuttings in the orchard, to make bundles of kindling for the woodstove. They're pulled up tight to the house, largely under cover of the roof, and they can be easily swapped out to sit next to the fire as needed.

Use what you've got!

With a nice fire in the stove, it didn't bother us *too much* when the rain started up again.