I’m on my third go-around of starting a package of bees and hoping that the resulting hive will survive the winter. Let me tell you, this year has been just another massive learning curve following a thoroughly different and unexpected trajectory.
I was standing near the hall, turned back to face my husband. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but I was teasing him about something. I remember briefly thinking—as I often do—that he was a handsome man and I was lucky he was my husband. Then I felt as if I had a net thrown over my body and my senses. The world went fuzzy and dark, and I couldn’t stand. My legs lost muscle tension. I half fell and half sat with very little grace on the floor. It’s not the first time I’ve partially fainted, and it’s not at all romantic. Moments earlier, I had stood and walked across the room, and my body sometimes cannot handle the blood pressure changes between sitting and standing.
Our garden is looking full and vibrant, and I hope to start raking in more produce than I know what to do with shortly. (The answer, by the way, is can, can, can, can, can! Can everything! I’d have to have a lot of produce not to know what to do with it…)
Our baby chicks are looking more and more like miniature adults, only awkwardly so. Their heads are still mostly downy fluff balls, but their bodies are sprouting feathers. They are still absolutely adorable.
Saving turnip seeds is quite the commitment to self-sufficiency because turnips are biennial plants, which means that they go to seed in their second year of life. The turnips you eat (or pretend to eat or just nibble at to be polite) are in their first year of life. To save turnip seeds, you have to leave a couple of beautiful looking turnips in the ground overwinter, preferably intentionally rather than forgetting a turnip and discovering it again in the spring. Whoops! That’s certainly never happened to me!
My sewing machine and I have struggled to maintain a healthy relationship of late. I spent all that money with my first technician to still have problems with my free-motion quilting. Then, I bucked up and tackled sewing a simpler project. I thought we were on the mend. I ordered silver variegated thread from my local quilting store, waited a couple of weeks for it to arrive, and yesterday sat down at my sewing machine ready to try again.
I’ve spun my fair share of skeins, but, thus far, I haven’t knitted with any of them. My initial pound of roving was to get the hang of spinning. My subsequent project was a gift for a friend of mine. This spinning project is my first that’s just for me. Woo!