A Dead Man's Party

Outside the CRFG Scion Exchange

Dear Mom:

These are my kind of people. They're weird. I'm going to learn a lot from them!

Much Love,

Bill

Suffice to say -- I've been looking forward to this event for the better part of a year. The event I'm speaking of? The annual scion exchange held by the Sacramento Chapter of the California Rare Fruit Growers -- or CRFG. These people are PLUM crazy.

Plum Crazy?

How is this a true statement? Do you see how many different varieties of PLUMS are on this table to your left? Case closed. Heaven awaits. Wait -- make that fruit tree heaven.

This is the next and most natural step that a person of questionable sanity takes when said person plants a backyard full of fruit trees. One variety of Pluot simply isn't enough. Not when there are five or six or seven different varieties that ripen at different times of the year.

Don't have room for five different varieties of pluots? No problem! That's the beauty of the scion exchange and the mad science called "grafting." One tree can hold many different varieties of fruit that ripen at different times of the year. No doubt that you've ran across something called a "Fruit Salad" fruit tree in your local nursery or Big Box store. The fruit salad tree offers three varieties of fruit grafted onto a single tree.

Inside the CRFG Scion Exchange

This is somewhat similar -- except you control what varieties are grafted. It's also not unheard of to graft Asian Plums like the Santa Rosa to an Apricot tree. Don't think that will work? Talk to one of the mad scientists at any scion exchange. They have stories to tell and tips to share. If you think it can't work, you will find someone to tell you that it can.

I suppose it would be wise to tell you, in simple terms, what a scion actually is before I drag you into this murky madness of year-round fruit and citrus production. A simple definition, provided by Merriam-Webster dictionary is: "a detached living portion of a plant (as a bud or shoot) joined to a stock in grafting and usually supplying solely aerial parts to a graft."

Nectarine Scions (Twigs)

In other words -- it's a twig that's been snapped off or cut off a fruit tree during the dormant season (winter counts as dormant season for fruit trees). That twig is then attached to another tree through the grafting process. If the graft "takes" or is successful -- the twig will sprout new leaves in the spring and will begin producing fruit over the next year or two.

Thanks to recent developments and techniques in the grafting process, most graft attempts are quite successful now. This wasn't always the case. There was a time and day when the process of grafting resulted in a success rate of 50% or less. I should know. I watched my father-in-law attempt to graft something (I can't remember what it was) to my mother's apple tree once. The experiment failed. It was never repeated.

Handy Dandy Grafting Tool (Gift From the Wife!)

But there are new techniques and tools that have been developed since that failure that have made the process of grafting almost foolproof. That, in turn, has led to the creation of a select group of people who are conducting experiments that Baron Victor von Frankenstein never would have dreamed of.

Ten different grafts on one apple tree? Sure! Why stop there? Graft a nectarine to a peach tree? Sounds good to me? Cherries to plums? Hey man! Whatever makes you happy!

CRFG Member John Valenzuela Explains Grafting Process

In the center of this recent scion exchange madness, a woefully under prepared Bill Bird would meet this guy: John Valenzuela. True to the patterns on his shirt -- John believes in growing fruit. Not just any fruit -- but all types and lots of them. John would be just one helpful person that I would run into during this exchange, as spread his own style and brand of Home Depot "You Can Do This" confidence.

My hands literally shook with excitement as I picked up bag after bag of fruit tree scions for literally every fruit tree and very fruit variety under the sun. You like nectarines? How does 20 different varieties of nectarines sound? Are plums your bag? There are HUNDREDS of different varieties here -- take your pick. Not sure what you want? Ask John!

Lady Williams Peach

It was then I noticed that most people had come prepared for this event with rolls of tape, pens, bags and markers. Once a certain variety of scion was selected, the name and information was written down on tape, attached to the twig in question and dropped into a bag. Onto the next station.

Bill Bird -- as you might imagine -- brought nothing. How was I going to keep track of all this stuff? Not to worry. CRFG members can spot a new member in their midst. They are usually the people standing in the middle of the madness, eyes wide open, sometimes drooling (OK -- in my case -- drooling).

Apple Scion Table

Someone -- I can't remember who -- would be kind enough to wrap some tape around a spare pen, stick it my hand, and tell me to get moving. Move -- I did. First to the plum table for that variety called Fairchild. Then, I would proceed to hop, skip and jump over to the pluot table where I discovered scions for Dapple Dandy, Flavor King and Flavor Delight! Then it was back to the plum table -- then cherries -- then nectarines! Back and forth! Back and forth!

One gets kind of dizzy collecting scions.

Those collected twigs of apples, pluots, nectarines, plums and cherries are currently sitting inside of a plastic baggy, kept moist at the bottom of the wife's vegetable crisper. She's just thrilled by this development -- but not to worry -- as yours truly will take the first steps into the world of fruit tree grafting later today.

Grafting that cherry to the cat's tail? Hey now -- that just might work....

My thanks to John Valenzuela and other CRFG members who only too happy to guide a lost person through the fruit tree jungle. John, a Horticulturist, Consultant and Educator, can be reached through his website. Access the CRFG website here, and the Sacramento Chapter is always welcoming new members to the madness.

A Frosty Cold One?

St. Patrick Tree Rose-Bird Back 40

The dead of winter really doesn't offer much in the way of garden blogging topics. There are chores to take care of, of course. If you're going to have a garden, you're going to have an endless list of chores that seems to grow with every passing year. You just can't "plant and ferget" as some people would think.

Sacramento Bee Garden writer (when are we going to add Editor to her title, hmm???) recently hosted a Garden Writing Workshop for bloggers like me, called "Germinating Ideas for Your Blog." Unfortunately, when one is fortunate enough to serve in the Office of Senate Republican Leader, one has no time for such outside endeavors. Maintaining a blog like this becomes a real chore. Sadly, I would miss this gathering as I've been forced to miss others.

Tree Rose in winter-Bird Back 40

But it does bring an interesting question to mind: Where do I find topics to write about? Let's be honest here friends, one can only write so much prose about heirloom tomatoes. After awhile, it just gets boring. And the last crime I want to commit is that of boredom.

I'm a fan of photos in the blog. I need and want color. It helps tell a story that mere words cannot. Therefore, if I see a particular picture in the Bird Back 40 -- like the one above or the other to your left -- that begins the process of "blog idea germination." But I also need more than just pictures -- I need a story to go with it. Sometimes -- if I'm very lucky -- the story carries a second meaning.

These photos represent the current state of the two tree roses that I have planted in the backyard. One is a Weeks "two-fer" (two different varieties of roses grafted onto the same root stock). The other is a St. Patrick, a birthday gift for the wife that is Venus several years ago when she was mourning the loss of her mother, Patricia, from cancer.

Tears of a Tree Rose

The photos you see represent the current state of both roses. I recently cut them back. And if you're wondering if roses *cry* -- well -- wonder no longer. The ice you see forming at the end of each cut represents sap escaping from a fresh cut -- a rose tear caught in the moment so to speak. It begs the question of "a frosty cold one?" Indeed.

I won't lie. Both of these roses gave me plenty of trouble at first. We get a lot of strong spring and summer winds blowing through our Sacramento River bottom home. Strong winds and tree roses do not mix. The stalks either bend or, in some cases, snap right in two. That's how the Weeks "Two-Fer" adopted the rather unfortunate name of "Two-Pieces." A spring wind snapped it in half during the first spring bloom.

Bummer...

Weeks "Two-Fer" 2009

But -- where there's a will? There's a way. The wood stakes that I had been using just weren't strong enough to support a tree rose full of blooms. Wood tends to bend -- and when wood stakes bend -- so do tree roses. One good blow from the north and SNAP! It's an emergency trip to the nearest nursery to hunt for a suitable replacement.

The nursery also carried the fix I was looking for in the form of strong metal stakes, sets of foam holders that attached to both stake and tree rose, plus some strong green gardening tape to hold it all together. I installed the fix last spring after the first big bloom, when once again the Weeks "Two-Fer" began leaning dangerously to the left.

I'm happy to report that the fix actually worked. The tree roses haven't been a problem since both stakes were pounded into the ground and fastened to each rose. They stopped waving too and fro during those surprise spring and winter windstorms. They took every gust like a champion. The stake "fix" also allowed the base of each tree rose to grow thicker and stronger.

It's my hope then that this "fix" is a permanent one. You see -- there are other -- more important duties to take care of on winter weekends like this. It's not necessarily garden related -- mind you -- but if you're a fan of a certain football team that resides in San Francisco, weekends like this have become very important.

There's not as much time for gardening on days like these. Not when Alex Smith is doing his best "Joe Montana" impression. The days of listening to the 49ers lose yet another game while working in the backyard are long gone. There's something special going on in the City by the Bay, kids.

As you might be able to tell from the photo, the question of "a frosty cold one?" takes on an entirely different meaning...

Indeed. That's where blog ideas are born.

I Was Wrong, Alex

Paul Kitagaki Jr. - Sacramento Bee

It's time for a well-deserved Mea Culpa. If you've come to this post expecting to find gardening insights and information, you're going to be sorely disappointed. There are no vine-ripened tomatoes here today. No fresh-from-the tree-ripened peaches. There is only chagrin.

You see, this is my apology to the man to your right. That my friends is Alex Smith. He plays quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers. Up until yesterday, Alex Smith had been the target of every football barb launched by a one Bill Bird and every other 49er fan. He was a first round draft bust. He was a complete and utter failure. He was the poster child -- so to speak -- of everything that was wrong with a woeful 49er football team.

Paul Kitagaki Jr. - Sacramento Bee

But -- every once in a great while -- a special moment comes along to prove that football fans are probably the most clueless people on this God's Green Earth. Wait -- strike the "probably" part. For today, I'm feeling a bit guilty and a bit melancholy. After all -- it wasn't all that long ago when I was blaming complete crop failures in the Bird Back 40 on a one Alex Smith (My Corn Fails Like Alex Smith).

It hadn't always been this way. Like many 49er fans I believed in Alex when he was first drafted. I lived through those miserable, losing years. I waited, patiently, for signs of improvement that never did come. During this time I was to suffer the slings and arrows from my big brother (a Charger fan) and many others who gleefully bragged that the 49ers had drafted a "bust." Alex would go down in the Pantheon of Busts, joining the likes of Ryan Leaf, JaMarcus Russell, Joey Harrington and others who came out of college ball with great promise -- only to fall flat on their collective faces.

In fact -- if you Google the phrase of "Quarterback Bust" today, Alex Smith's name still pops up on a number of search results.

Jose Luis Villegas-Sacramento Bee

It just goes to show that I'm not the only person with egg on his face. There are lots of clueless people on the face of this planet, and some of them actually write about football for a living.

It might be time for them to find a new line of work.

Alex Smith's performance against the New Orleans Saints goes beyond mere numbers. There is more there than 299 yards passing. One must look beyond his three passing touchdowns. The game was bigger than "the scramble," a thing-of-beauty, over-the-left-side rushing TD that sent Candlemistake Park fans into a tizzy. 

That final bullet to tight end Vernon Davis may earn a place in history books as "the grab," but Alex Smith's performance goes deeper than that -- much deeper.

Paul Kitagaki Jr. - Sacramento Bee

Alex Smith took a gigantic step forward on Saturday that no fan ever thought in his or her wildest mind that Alex Smith could ever take. He transformed himself from first-round bust, first-round disappointment, into an elite QB who can play with the best in this game and beat them all.

I'll be the first to admit, I had lost faith in him. The years of taunts from my Charger-loving brother and so many others (including the brother-in-law who bleeds Dallas Cowboy blue) had worked its magic. I was convinced. Alex Smith was bust. He was just no good -- no good at all. The 49ers would never experience a winning season again -- I firmly believed -- until he was cut, told to clean out his locker, and leave.

You may notice that I take a particular satisfaction that neither the Chargers or the Cowboys are in the playoffs this year. Both the brother and brother-in-law are strangely quiet today and have been far less vocal this entire season. The Charger fan brother is just sick with the realization that the 49ers and Alex Smith are one step away from what his multitude of playoff teams could never do: clinch a spot in the Super Bowl.

Paul Kitagaki Jr. - Sacramento Bee

By the way -- the brother is already picking Green Bay (even though, at the writing of this blog post, they haven't won a playoff game against the Giants yet).

Let this be my personal Mea Culpa then. This is my personal apology to Alex Smith. I'm sorry that I listened to the hateful words from my Charger-loving brother. I'm sorry that I let my Dallas Cowboy lovin' brother-in-law get to me. I should probably revoke my NFL fan card.

I know that Alex Smith is no fan of gardening forums. Perhaps one day he will be -- long after he's retired and he's turned his attention to other pursuits. I know he will not read this. But it doesn't matter.

I'm sorry Alex. I was wrong.

Photos in this blog posting were taken without permission from the Sacramento Bee, which this blog is linked too through Sacramento Connect. I have given proper photo credit for each photo used, and will be happy to remove them if found to be in violation of copyright rules.

A U-Pick Paradise

Moody's Middle Mountain Mandarin Farm-Sutter Buttes

Nestled at the base of the Sutter Buttes in the unincorporated community of Sutter, CA, adventure awaits three Sacramento transplants in search of fresh citrus on a clear and cold winter day. Not just any citrus either, but fresh from the tree lemons, mandarins, grapefruit and more.

We would find and fulfill our quest at Moody's Middle Mountain Mandarin Farm located just next door to the Sutter High School football field, a slice of wild country life located at the front door -- so to speak -- the dividing line between rural city life and country living at its finest.

I had been searching for a U-pick operation involving fresh lemons for quite some time, but every promising lead fizzled. Every operation that offered fresh lemons wouldn't allow you to set foot near a tree -- but you could buy freshly harvested lemons - two or three for a buck. That wasn't good enough. I wanted something different. I wanted a U-pick operation where I could pick my fill. I wasn't after ten or 15 lemons -- I had my sights set on ten or 15 buckets.

Moody's Middle Mountain Mandarin Farm

That's a lot of lemons. Combined with the fresh honey and pomegranate juice from the Bird Back 40, it was enough to keep us pickled in lemonade and other delicacies through the winter months. That was my quest, but my search was coming up woefully short. Sure -- I know plenty of people in Sacramento with massive lemon trees. I consider these folks to be very lucky people. They wouldn't mind if I helped myself to ten or 15 lemons -- not at all.

But ten or 15 Homer sized buckets? Meh...Keep looking son...

South Natomas heirloom tomato grower Nels Christensen felt our pain. Nels DOES have lemon trees. But Nels, like many other owners of mature citrus trees, also has USES for his lemons. He's not in the market for giving up 10-15 buckets worth -- but he did join us in our search. It was a search that would lead me first into Butte County -- later Yuba and Yolo -- Placer County too.

Monster Lisbon Lemon Tree-Moody's Mountain Mandarins

But it was Sutter County -- gorgeous Sutter County -- that offered the elusive answer I was looking for. Al Moody, owner and operator of Moody's Middle Mountain Mandarins, confirmed that he did indeed have the type of lemon tree I was looking for. It was a massive, grand bush of a tree. It's the type of tree that held so many lemons that you could harvest 10-15 buckets and the tree looked like it hadn't been touched.

That, Ladies and Gentlemen, is a lemon tree.

It was the lovely wife that is Venus who snapped me back to reality when she scolded that I didn't really need 10-15 buckets of lemons. What I might WANT and what I NEED, she lectured, are two entirely different things. Two buckets, she counseled, would be just fine.

Buckets for Picking!

She was, of course, right. When is she not? Except when she uttered the immortal words of "I do," the mistakes have been few and far between.

To be honest? I had been searching for a source of Meyer Lemons. Those are my favorite. The funny thing is -- the Improved Meyer Lemon really isn't a true lemon. It's a cross between a true lemon and a mandarin or common orange. It's far sweeter than the Eureka or Lisbon lemons, which are two of the most common "true lemons" that are planted in California. But the Meyer also happens to be a favorite among many lemon fans because of it's sweetness, juicing ability and unique taste.

While Moody confirmed he did have Meyer Lemons on his vast property -- I was in for a jolt of disappointment. This has been a poor year for Meyer production, he related. He wasn't allowing U-pick services for his Meyer trees yet -- and may not allow them this year. The same holds true for the acres of mandarins planted behind his home. In past years? You could pick all you wanted to your heart's (or stomach's) content. But not this year.

Carpet of Lisbon Lemons-Moody's Mountain Mandarins

However -- in the center of this property -- located behind a few small Meyer Lemon and somewhat larger Naval Orange and other citrus trees stood the granddaddy lemon tree of them all: Lisbon lemons. I'll be honest with you -- I've never tasted Lisbon Lemons before. I've heard of them -- but never harvested them in great numbers like the Meyer.

But Bill Bird isn't one to pass up a lemon of a bargain like this. Al was selling his lemons for $12 bucks for a 5-gallon Homer bucket -- all the lemons I wanted and more. My eyeballs nearly rolled out of their sockets when I saw this massive wonder for the first time. Nels, who had graciously volunteered to join our lemon of an adventure, smiled as well.

Lisbon Lemons-Ready for Harvest

It was a lemon of a promised land. Ladders? No need for ladders with a tree this large and this wide. The entire tree was covered with a canopy, wall and base of lemons. Lemons at the bottom. Lemons at the middle. More lemons than you can possibly count within easy reach.

It didn't take us long -- 30 minutes perhaps -- to fill two of those 5-gallon buckets. Each bucket resulted in a large grocery sack full of lemons. Venus was right. She's always right. Two buckets were more than enough.

Mandarins for Snacking-Moody's Mountain Mandarins

But you just can't visit a mandarin farm like this -- especially this mandarin farm so close to the Sutter Buttes -- and leave with just a couple of sacks of lemons. No -- there were mandarins to be had here. There were mandarins by the thousands. "Help yourself to a snack," Al invited us. Snack we did. I must admit -- those are some of the best mandarins I've tasted this season -- even better than the Owari Satsuma Mandarins that came from my own backyard.

The final haul resulted in two large sacks of Lisbon Lemons, a large bag of Al's Middle Mountain Mandarins, a smaller sack of Meyer Lemons plus a couple of grapefruit that caught Venus' eye.

The Order Board

The drive to Al's Middle Mountain Mandarin Farm is a pleasing drive up Highway 99 through gorgeous Northern California countryside -- in and out of of Yuba City and a right turn on Acacia Blvd. off Highway 20 that will lead you to the community of Sutter.

Turn left on Griffith and travel past the grounds of Sutter High School to reach Al's farm, which is located at 8189 Griffith Lane -- almost at the end of the block. Feel free to pull right in or call (530) 673-2567 ‎and ask Al about the many types of citrus trees he has on his farm (there's a lot there to look at). Perhaps you'll get a crack at that Lisbon Lemon as we did, or be content to purchase a sack or two of some of the best citrus you'll ever taste.

Turn Out the Lights!!!!

Bird Back 40 Asparagus Patch

As Dandy Don Meredith of ABC's Monday Night Football would croon at the end of games (especially blowouts):

"Turn Out the Lights...

The Party's Over...

They Say That...

All Good Things Must End...

Call it Tonight...

The Party's Over...

And Tomorrow Starts...

The Same Old Thing Again..."

Willie Nelson wrote those amazing lyrics and sings that amazing song. But I don't know if it would be quite as popular today, had not one of the best Color Commentators in all of football crooned that same, signature song again and again and again.

It's the song that comes to mind when looking at the asparagus patch pictured above. Venus and I planted asparagus crowns just last spring, really not knowing what to expect. After all, we'd never grown asparagus before. Have you? Was it supposed to erupt in a tangled mass of ferns like it did last summer? Because it most certainly did.

Asparagus Spears Allowed to Flower and Fern

Hidden most of the summer by the Bird Back 40 corn crop, those tiny root systems for Jersey Knight and Purple Passion bolted into a cacophany of fern growth that promptly grew straight up and then flopped over on the ground after reaching a height of three to four feet. Any fern that flopped was immediately replaced by another spear -- which also proceeded to fern and flop.

There were many times during the summer, I might add, where Bill Bird was more than just a tad tempted to cut that fat green or purple spear literally jumping out of the raised bed that holds the Bird asparagus patch. So was the wife that is Venus. But we managed to resist that urge -- knowing all the while -- that each fern would most likely result in a multitude of fat asparagus spears next spring.

That's the hope anywho. Like I mentioned earlier, we've never attempted anything like this before.

We had plenty of questions -- but very little in the way of answers. Was this fern growth normal? Should we be doing anything special to the asparagus patch during the ferning and flopping process -- rather than fawning over it every third day? Should we allow the ferns to flop? Stake them up? So many questions -- so little answers.

Asparagus Ferns

Normally -- in times of need like this -- I turn to one or more gardening mentors like Farmer Fred Hoffman, Don Shor of Redwood Barn Nursery fame or former Sacramento Bee Home and Garden Editor Dan Vierra. But, to be brutally honest, I really do bug these people too much with incessant questioning. It was time to do some searching on my own, and as a very wise man once taught me, "Google is your friend."

Indeed!

The most helpful "how too" articles that I came across were "Growing ASPARAGUS in the Garden" from the UC Davis Vegetable Research and Information Station and "Growing Asparagus in the Home Garden" from the University of Ohio Horticulture and Crop Science Extension service. Both were loaded with tips (asparagus tips I might add) -- and both confirmed that Venus and I were off to a rather rousing start.

In fact -- the best bit of advice came from Carl J. Cantaluppi (University of Ohio) when he wrote: "The year after planting, asparagus can be harvested several times throughout a three-week period, depending on air temperatures. Research shows there is no need to wait two years after planting before harvesting. In fact, harvesting the year after planting will stimulate more bud production on the crown and provide greater yields in future years, as compared with waiting two years before harvesting.

This was indeed -- tremendous news. Venus and I had been under the belief that it would be at least two seasons before we could harvest our first spears. Yet here was plain advice from a crop scientist advocating to pick, pick and pick away after just one year of fern growth. Do you know what this means?

Asparagus Ferns Removed (Cut Back)

It means that the bed that has now been cut back of dead fern growth will be throwing out delicious spears of asparagus this spring, just in time for Easter Supper at the Bird Ranch. Nothing -- I mean absolutely NOTHING -- is better than what you can grow in your own little patch of yard. This is a rule that applies to all produce -- and I can only begin to imagine what kind of taste surprise will result from our own home-grown asparagus.

These same articles (links are above) -- while confirming that we were indeed on the right path -- also contained tips that I never would have crossed my mind (unless someone told me to do it). Those ferns that had erupted from the asparagus crowns (roots) that we planted last spring were actually quite beneficial. They were sending all kinds of important nutrients into the crowns (root systems) below. The more fern activity -- the better. More ferns result in more spears -- bigger and better spears I might add.

But there also comes a time when enough is enough. Those ferns don't last. In fact, as you can tell from the photos, many of them have turned brown. Some -- much to my surprise -- completely withered away. I discovered this as I hacked the fern growth back to ground level. The instructions that I encountered online advised a "haircut and close shave," as those former spears that erupted into ferns will become quite woody and quite *sharp* during the overwintering process.

We don't want to be slicing up fingers when slicing tender shoots of asparagus next spring, now do we?

Asparagus Hidden by Ferns

That "shave and a haircut (two bits)" is now complete. What's more surprising, although the thought did cross my mind, is that the removal of the dead and dying ferns revealed the growth of ASPARAGUS SPEARS! Sure enough -- what may be the first tender shoots of spring-time growth were popping just above the soil line.

Now -- it's entirely possible that this growth will also result in additional ferns -- which will be cut back later this winter. Then again, the growth rate might be so slow that these spears may be the first we actually harvest during our short, three week, asparagus season. This season, by the way, will expand with time and additional years of growth. But, for the first year? Three weeks is all you get.

That's fine by us. As the wife that is Venus says -- three weeks is better than no weeks. We're looking forward to a rather tasty backyard harvest. See you in the spring!

Potato Baby Jesus?

Christmas Day Potato Surprise From the Bird Back 40

Every once in a great while while working in the garden -- the wife that is Venus will utter a line that makes the perfect title for a gardening post like this one. It's the line that she shouted out after digging this monster potato out of the garden on Christmas Day -- a complete and total surprise I might add. We didn't pick Christmas Day as the day to harvest potatoes. No -- that mistake is on me -- yours truly. I'm the husband who forgot to purchase a five pound sack of spuds during our many shopping trips to prepare for the big day.

As soon as she uttered the line, I responded with the following: "that's perfect for the blog. I'm STEALING it." But the wife -- a devout Catholic -- suddenly had second thoughts lest the title offend someone. "How about calling it Potato Santa Claus instead," she questioned.

Nope -- Potato Baby Jesus was just too good to pass.

This monster potato, which snapped into two pieces as we dug it out of the soil, weighed in at a solid 2 lbs. It is one of the largest potatoes we have ever dug out of the backyard, and came as a shock and surprise to the both of us.

Frost and Potato Plants Do Not Mix

We weren't expecting anything this large -- especially since a week or two of winter frost in the morning had essentially laid waste to the potato plants in the backyard. Much to my chagrin, the frost also destroyed a growth spurt on one of two Meyer Lemon trees in the Bird Back 40. Why the Meyer Lemon suddenly chose late fall to suddenly bolt with a flurry of new branch growth and blossom set, I'll never know. I prayed and hoped the new growth would survive the onset of winter, but prepared for the worst.

The worst was revealed on Christmas Day after digging up a surprise monster of a potato. Despite covering the tree with Christmas lights (lights that generate heat I might add -- because some do not) -- the frosty conditions prevailed. Most of the new, purple colored, branch growth that I'd witnessed in recent weeks had turned black. That's never a good sign.

Bummer.

As for the potato harvest party on Christmas Day? That was also a surprise! It was necessitated when Venus discovered her dolt of a husband had forgotten to purchase a 5 lb. sack of spuds for holiday meals. Her response? "I guess we're digging for Christmas dinner then."

Christmas Day Potato Harvest

I didn't have much hope to be honest. We were a tad late on planting fall crops like potatoes this year. While some plants had sprung up in the bed we used for our very successful potato harvest last spring, the plants never did get a chance to flower and die back as they do naturally during the spring planting. 10-15 days of solid frost turned a once leafy and nice looking bed into something rather barren and dead looking.

I wasn't all that encouraged. Until -- that is -- Venus and I unearthed a monster of spud that we were not expecting.

The haul in the basket picture above came from digging up a small portion of the bed -- no more than one or two plants. We know there's a lot more where this came from, and perhaps another monster or two to uncover.

As for Christmas Day dishes -- the potato haul made for a nice breakfast in the form of hash browns. This a must have before the chore of ripping open Christmas presents. That evening, the wife that is Venus Productions concocted her famous roasted potato dish, featuring fresh rosemary from the garden, sea salt, pepper and olive oil (plus a few other secret seasonings).

This was a nice, and rather unexpected, gift from the garden on Christmas Day.

Why is This Man Smiling?

Happy Honey Extractor at Work

His incredible weight loss secrets perchance? Mmmm....NO!

The wife that is Venus is rewarding me with a back rub? No again, since she's taking the picture.

The 49ers are winning? That very well could be, but again, no.

But there is a reason for this grin. I'm rich! I'm fabulously rich and wealthy! Not in money mind you, but in fresh, tasty, straight-from-the-backyard Hello Kitty Beehive, HONEY.

As for the picture above? Yes, that is me. Yes, I could stand to lose more than just a few pounds. But I am seated in front of a strange contraption known as an extractor. I had never heard of an extractor, and never had a use for an extractor until I got this crazy idea in my head some three years ago to manage a beehive.

Pure Honey is a Pretty Sight

How does one procure honey from a hive? One needs an "extractor." What is an extractor? If you combine the mental pictures of a large metal trash can and a ten-speed bike -- that's kind of what it's like. And it's the perfect way to remove large amounts of honey from honey-laden combs like the one pictured to your left in a very short period of time.

That honey capped frame, by the way, comes from the part of the beehive called the "honey super." Why do they call it a "honey super?" Why are you asking these questions? My short and sweet answer is: I have no clue why they call it that. Perhaps because it results in a lot of honey -- and such a development is just "super?"

Probably not.

Scraping Wax Capped Frames of Honey for Extraction

My hand was literally shaking with excitement, by the way, as I used a hard-wire brush to break into the white wax caps that held back a massive flow of golden-rich honey. This was a first for me. I'd never done anything like it before. But the time to procure honey from backyard hives had come and gone. It was late October. The weather had turned cold. Cold temperatures turn honey into the consistency and weight of a wet and sticky cement.

Have you ever tried pouring cement? I have. It ain't easy. It also takes a skill level that I never acquired and probably never will. This is why I don't pour wet cement anymore, unless I'm going to bury it in the form of a fence post for a grape arbor. You'll never see my shoddy cement work. It's buried. You'll only notice it when the fence falls over. Hah!

Neon Pink Hello Kitty Hive

Breaking into the Hello Kitty Hive also contained a surprise that I had not been expecting. Since the weather was cold -- I knew the colony must have clustered. I had not seen nary a bee fly in or out of the hive for about a week. This is normal activity during colder months. Bees cluster in a hive to protect the queen and keep her warm. My hope was that the bees had clustered near the bottom of the hive, which would make retrieval of the honey super that much easier.

That particular super is located at the top of the hive. My hope was I could dart in and out without the colony flying up to meet me, retrieve the super and the queen excluder and quickly make my exit.

WARNING! This box is HEAVY!

I'll never forget the rush I felt upon opening the top of that hive to look into the super for the first time since I'd placed it on top of the hive last spring. What had been nothing more than a simple box with ten empty frames had been transformed into a box containing ten white-capped frames of honey that weighed a good 50-60 lbs. It took all of my effort to lug that box off the hive and move it a good twenty feet away. So far, so good. The bees had not come up to greet the wife and I.

Removal of the queen excluder and the second hive body (which contained two year old honey) also went without a hitch. But that's when the first feelings of doubt began to wash over me. I should have seen at least one bee by now. Bees normally react with annoyance when a beekeeper disturbs the hive body. It's a natural reaction. Remember that bees are insects. They do not have individual minds or individual wills. Insects react instinctively. The first instinct of any honeybee is to protect the queen and hive. I should have at least encountered an angry buzz by now.

Frame of Wax-Capped Honey

We didn't hear a thing. That's bad news. If you don't hear bees buzzing, it means it's time to inspect the hive. This is something I hadn't done since last spring, when our very healthy and productive colony swarmed on four different occasions. Although beekeepers do their level best to keep a hive from swarming, it's part of the natural reproductive process. This is how new colonies form. If a colony swarms, it usually means you've got a champion queen inside that hive and she has produced so much new brood -- that it's time to split.

So what happened? I'm not really sure. But an inspection of the bottom hive body revealed a rather distressing sight. There was nary a bee to be found. There wasn't one single, solitary honeybee in that hive. There wasn't so much as a carcass. Short and sweet? They were gone. Why would a queen and colony leave a hive that they had packed with honey stores during the spring and summer? It's a vexing question and problem that affects commercial and hobbyist beekeepers. Successful colonies can collapse and vanish in the space of a month.

Frames Inside Extractor. Notice Honey at the Bottom?

This one vanished. But before vanishing -- they sure did leave behind a boatload of honey.

The first step in claiming this honey from the super was to warm it up. You can't extract honey that is the consistency of wet cement -- even with the powerful force of an extractor. Honey extracts easily when it is thin and pours easily. But it needs heat to reach this consistency -- and sustained heat at that.

The Bird family garage does double-duty for many things. It's not just a garage. It's a party room. It's a bar, complete with kegerator. It's a place to watch football on a flat-screen TV. It's a place for tools and garden implements AND neon signs for Red Stripe, Coors Light, Corona and the like. Short and sweet? It's not just a garage. It's a "GarageMahal."

By turning up the heat and letting the super sit in one place overnight, inside a well heated GarageMahal, the honey inside those white, wax-capped frames took on the kind of consistency that I wanted. It was soft, pliable and easy to work with. It also leaves behind a sticky mess, necessitating the use of a tarp normally reserved for paint jobs inside the house.

Three Frame Extractor With Spigot at Bottom

The extractor is a simple device that uses the force of gravity to remove honey from frames very quickly. The frames are first scraped with a wire brush to remove the wax cappings, then placed inside slots located inside the drum of the extractor. The top of the extractor is then covered, and at that point, it's muscle over matter. The operator cranks the handle at the top of the extractor, the frames inside whip round and round at high speeds, and the force of gravity sends the honey, wax and bits of pollen slinging to the sides of this modified trash can.

Here's a short, one-minute demo here.

The honey that collects at the bottom of this can drains through a spigot into anything you have available (a five gallon bucket works best) and the end result looks a lot like what is pictured above. You get a lot of honey mixed with bits of wax and pollen that also dislodged during the extraction process. Those bits wax and pollen are lighter than the honey, and will rise to the top of a bucket or one gallon container over a day or two. This makes it easier to dig out, but the honey still must be strained a second time. And even then, tiny particles of wax and pollen remain.

Extracted Honey Before Straining

My friends, I can tell you this much. There is nothing quite like honey freshly harvested from your own backyard hive. The taste is dramatically different from what is purchased in a store (many commercial honey products are mixed with corn syrup or other products). It also contains enzymes and pollens that are considered to be medicinal.

Honey that is allowed to stay in a comb stage for two years is far darker and far sweeter. I am not sure if this can be purchased commercially, I've never come across it before. It is truly something special and will make for some nice gifts during the Christmas season.

The Finished Product: Pure 100% Raw Honey

The bees inside that Hello Kitty Hive were extraordinarily productive. The extractor yielded about 60 lbs. of honey -- enough to fill a number of half gallon and one gallon jugs. I have never seen so much honey in my life and consider myself to be very fortunate indeed. While I am saddened that Sudden Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) appears to have struck again, Venus and I will start with a new swarm again next spring.

Beekeeping is like a madness. Once it strikes, it never lets go.