Perspective

-Posted by Isaac

I think it’s been the best spring honey year we’ve ever had.

Just incredible.

And I do believe I called that back in March.

For twenty days now, the caked-out supers have come off the hives. One by one, the thick honey laden frames are run through the system.

Wax goes in one direction.

Honey goes the other.

The mountain of buckets grows…

and grows…

When we pull the summer and fall honey, it goes into drums. I guess we should’ve thought of that for the spring honey this year. There’s a lot of it.

And not only that, it’s the most beautiful honey you’ve ever seen.

Feel free to come down and try some. Priced at wholesale in the farmstand!

The last I checked in with you, I was muddling along, having only pulled two yards.

Now I’ve only got two to go. We’ll be finished in a few days. Even with all the (welcome) distractions.

The birthday pigs had their first meal of stale popcorn.

Then figured out any and all ways to escape.

I was in a bee yard the other day and Jayne texted me the above photo. With one word: Pigs.

So far, they’ve escaped at least four times. And I thought that pen was bulletproof. The darn things are just so much smarter than bullets.

Same with the honey equipment. I thought our stuff was built to last.

Maybe it’s the extra honey weight from an awesome season… I don’t know, but we’re sure repairing a lot of frames and boxes.

Mishaps happen.

The summer vacation (which started in March) has been abnormally full of free time. We’re on pandemic scheduling. No camps, no festivals, fewer road trips… our kids are suddenly finding out what it was like for me as a kid.

The world is a big place. Knock yourself out.

I’ve taken them with me several times. While I work the bees, they hike around, build forts, find things to do.

Sometimes it works out.

Sometimes it doesn’t.

A sting or two can make any great day turn ugly.

It also makes riding with dad a health hazard. So for the most part, I’m alone in the yards. If I work fast, I can keep up with Lafe in the extracting room. Sometimes it works out.

Other times I like to sit around and take it in. For no obvious reason.

I switched from podcasts to mostly music this week. Introspective music. I think it spurred my thinking.

About a week ago Jayne and I, Wittenberg alums, received a sad email about some changes the college was forced to make. Among other bad news was the shock that they’re canning the geology program. My major.

I didn’t take it very well. For about a day. Why would they do away with the best, most important, most valuable program in the whole university? Then, slowly, my anger and disappointment gave way to gratitude. Then a wave of memories. The people, places, professors… the field camps… what we learned. Or failed to learn. I’m so thankful. I found myself in such a quirky, highly intelligent, unique group— enlightened dirtbags. In retrospect, so influential. More than any other batch of friends or jobs or interests, the time with those people, the undergrad geology years, changed my perspective.

For the better. I never did use my degree, but I use it every day.

I’m pretty sure I’ve touched on thinking like a geologist in some of these posts.

Sure wish I could go back. Just one more camping trip or hike up a mountain. I need more enlightened dirtbags around. Echos of burnt red Chugwater Sandstone, clear cold water, boots and rock hammers and compasses, the deep blue Wyoming sky. Why did we ever leave that?

Are they using their geology as much as I use mine?

True story— I think this happened near Phoenix. A day after the horrific plane crash killing all passengers and crew, a reporter asked different religious leaders for words of condolence and counsel. Was there a reason for this tragedy? Having received the wise words and expected explanations, the reporter contacted a Buddhist monk and asked the same question. The monk reflected a moment and said, “Reason? The reason for death is… life.”

So Wittenberg dropped the geology program.

Sometimes things don’t work out.

And sometimes they do.