The Collapse XXX: Honey Harvest

03 September 20XX

My Dear Lucilius:

To break my thoughts from yesterday’s rather disturbing news, I will tell you of my honey harvest this past weekend.

It is a little early (perhaps) for harvesting honey, but our seasons happen earlier and later here, and I like to give the bees as much chance to settle themselves after harvest before the winter arrives (which, at least here, always seems too early).

The process is always the same: I get my bee suit on with the long leather gloves, prepare my smoker by loading it with wadded cotton and a flame starter and then lighting it. I pump until I have a nice steady stream of smoke available.

Then, to the bees. I pull out my trusty “hive tool” (really a sort a lightweight crowbar) to lift up the outer telescoping hood which sits over the outer edge of the hive deeps. I smoke down into the hive (the bees start boiling out at this point) to drive them out of the honey deeps (the shallower ones you see on beehives), then remove the inner lid to reveal the frames of honey.

The bees are typically billowing now. Slow, steady movements win the contest here. I smoke some more, then remove the honey deep – if it sticks (as it often does from the propolis, that sticky substance that bees make to fill chinks and holes). This year I had put two honey deeps on each; I pulled only one off as I worry that that bees will not have enough and, it seems, it will be much harder to get more.

I reverse the process (inner lid, outer lid) to seal the hive up, then move to the second one and repeat the process. The deeps are heavy – which is good, as it means the bees have been busy. I continue to smoke both deeps to drive out any stragglers.

After this, I pull the deeps around to the other side of the house (to avoid any curious bees). In this case my small shed becomes the harvest house.

Harvesting is simple enough. I use a tined fork to break the seal on the cells on the frames one by one, then place them into slots into a honey harvester, essentially a holder with a crank. I crank, centrifugal forces do the rest. I pull out the now denuded frames and insert three more. At the end, the bottom of the harvester is filled with honey.

The now empty frames I take back by the hive and set on a table (the bees will clean up very last drop of the leftover honey – nothing is wasted!). After they clean the frames, I will put them in plastic trash bags to protect them from moths larvae.

And now, the final part. The honey harvester has a spout on the bottom. I get my containers (I try to recycle those silly “Honey Bears” that honey always seems to come in, but have to use Mason Jars at this point as well), open the spout, and fill the container. The honey flows quickly as it is still somewhat warm; from time to time I get a spatula scrape the honey down (I, too, try not to waste). Occasionally globs of honey stick to the spatula or to the spout, which I greedily devour as my reward for a day’s work.

At the end of this, the harvester is relatively empty and ready to be placed out during the day by the frames for the bees to clean. My 20 or so containers of honey are ready to have the date written on them and be stored away for the year. I will have some more Winter maintenance to perform on the hives (we can discuss that later), but I am now largely done with the bees.

Honey has gone up in price over the years – a pound of non-imported honey (there were always unreliable countries that cut their honey with sugar water) was almost $15.00 the last time I looked. Just by using that price, I “made” $300 this weekend (or $600, were I wiling to take more). But the benefits I derive from having the bees present are worth far more than the mere money I could make from the honey.

The last part of the day is always spent with a beverage in hand, watching the bees who, having re-settled themselves, are now back on their usual schedule. I could watch bees enter and leave the hive for hours on end.

Such a simple pleasure, Lucilius. We work well with nature when we work with the plants and animals, not against them.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca