May 17, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
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Did I give my honey bees a cinnamon challenge?

Cinnamon keeps honey bees out if hives. I hope it doesn't block bees airways.

I’m not sure I could tell if a bee was choking on cinnamon

Every generation invents new party tricks. Right now kids are challenging each other to choke down straight cinnamon, a whole spoon of it in one minute without any water, to produce an “orange burst of dragon breath.” We did the same thing with saltine crackers. I remember staring at my brother while he furiously chewed, and laughing right up until his crumbly spew plastered my face like salty snow. I was always the one to get nailed, because I had to sit really close to the prankster to see without my glasses. Plus, my other siblings were smarter about the consequences of their location.

(Wait! Now I get it! The butt of the saltine cracker prank is the moron closest to the chewer! I just figured this out while writing my flashback. Awesome.)

Anyway, the cinnamon swallowing kids are turing up in hospitals because they can’t breathe. Cinnamon is caustic, and often causes irritation and swelling in the airways. Last week I used cinnamon to get rid of ants in my beehive. It worked really well. Within an hour of sprinkling it in the hive and stacking cinnamon sticks around the hive, the ants disappeared and have not returned. Cinnamon is powerful stuff.

Now of course I’m worried that the spice might irritate the bees’ airways. I read about how bees breathe in Mark Winston’s book, The Biology of the Honey Bee, and learned that air comes in and out of honey bees through tiny holes in their bodies called spiracles. Could cinnamon block the spiracles? That would be terrible. Honey bees don’t have lungs. The air circulates though a series of tracheae and air sacs. I suppose the cinnamon could irritate those too. So far, the bees seem entirely unaffected by the cinnamon, except they’re no longer dodging ants.

Hard to say if I’d recognize the sight of a cinnamon-choked bee. I’m kind of unobservant when it comes to the effects of caustic powders on my charges. While my kids assure me they’ve never taken the cinnamon challenge, Fiona does confess to an occasional gorge on Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. I always laugh at her description of popping these crimson colored snacks into her mouth and then chugging water to beat down the mouth fire. Sounds like innocent fun to me. But better parents have reportedly thought otherwise, and have rushed their kids to the ER after mistaking their kids’ glowing red poop for bloody stool. It doesn’t occur to me to look at my kids’ poop. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t bother to take them to the ER just to waste hours of our lives together watching a parade of people who made bad life choices. (My friend is a nurse in the ER and once had to extract a potato from someone’s butt. She didn’t ask questions so I can’t answer the ones going through your head right now. You’ll have to imagine like I did. Trust me, this image won’t leave you as fast as you’d like. I’m sorry.)

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May 11, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
1 Comment

Cinnamon purges ants from bee hives

Sprinkling cinnamon in a hive keeps ants away

Cinnamon drives ants out of bee hives

Minions of ants have discovered the sugar syrup I spilled on top of my hive. The water dissolved, leaving a hardened pad of sugar on the hive cover. The ants parade up and down the side of the hive like a miniature cargo train, each carrying a single sugar crystal as big as its tiny body. I stare at their procession long enough to worry.

But then, like most of my problems in life, I decide to ignore them and hope they’ll go away. They don’t. Like most of my problems, I continue to ignore them and hope someone else will make them go away. In this case, the honey bees. I wish they’d push them out of the hive like a good strong colony would. They don’t, because they are a new colony, still building itself up. I take action once it’s clear the ants will soon outnumber the bees and turn into a big problem. Big problems I can handle. Once a nuisance crosses the line to crisis, my simple mind can face it, because it becomes an unambiguous priority. I must get rid of the ants, swiftly and surely, right now.

I Google. Lots of beekeepers swear by cinnamon. Ants hate it, they won’t step over it to get to their feast, so they go away in search of a new candy store. Apparently, cinnamon doesn’t bother bees. So Myles and I launch a full out cinnamon defensive. I sprinkle cinnamon all over the edge of the hive stand, creating a fragrant brown ridge the ants must face en route to their sweet storehouse. I cover the sugar pad on the hive cover with ground cinnamon. Myles lights the smoker even though I told him we don’t need it, since we’re not opening up the hive. But he lights it anyway because, duh, fire is fun. After striking no less than 30 matches and throwing each one onto the pine needles, paper scraps and god knows what else he stuffed into the smoker, he gets a good fire going in there. The flames, the smoke, the intensely pleasant holiday spice aroma all lull me into a stupor. High on generic cinnamon, I zone out as Myles trots around the bee yard, puffing smoke everywhere for the fun of it. When the smoker peters out, he stacks tons of broken cinnamon sticks at the feet of the hive, making the whole scene seem like we’re ceremoniously burning a squat little boxy witch at the stake.

 

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May 4, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
4 Comments

Myth Busting

Frame full of capped honeycomb

Beekeeping lore says that edible honey in pots and in comb has been found in Pharaohs’ tombs. Really?

Fiona told us at dinner last week that chewing tobacco is laced with glass chards so users get a faster nicotine uptake through their macerated cheek lining. I had absolutely no desire to bust this myth because it’s such a wonderfully gross deterrent. I was tempted to say, “Tobacco companies are brilliant. Almost as smart as beer brewers. You know they dissolve cockroaches in the brew so that drinkers get stronger from all the bug protein, and have more stamina.” But I didn’t, because lying is bad. And I’m trying to teach them to question some of outrageous things they hear.

Like most of my parenting initiatives, this one backfired. I walked into the kitchen while Fiona was baking cookies and found Myles assuming various poses all of which placed his butt perilously close to the oven’s heat element. As entertaining as his inside-out Sylvia Plath reinterpretation was, I had to call an end to it for fear of him searing his cheeks, and ask him what, exactly, he was doing. He explained he was investigating the rumor he heard that  farts are flammable — a hot topic among the 5th grade boys. I suggested a safer route might be to use a lighter.

“We tried,” he said.  ”It’s out of propane. Where are the matches?”

Apparently they’d been at this for awhile. I suggested they see if Mythbusters had ever filmed an episode testing the hypothesis. The dudes accept emails, so I sent them this:

Suzanne Langlois Less than a minute ago

Hi Guys! My kids are dying to find out if it’s possible to set one’s expelled gaseous air alight. They tell each other, “Hey, I wanna try to torch your farts. So fart.” I’m not the kind of mom who likes my children experimenting on their gluteal epidermis, so I respectfully ask your opinion.

I’ll let you know what they say if they get back to me, which I hope they do because I can’t cook enough beans so satisfy Myles’ curiosity. Then I got to thinking, I repeat some pretty outrageous things without question. Like the notion that edible honey was found in the tombs of Egyptian Pharaohs – a frequently cited anecdote that’s often linked to the assertion that honey lasts forever. I figured those Mythbuster guys would violate all kinds of international laws if they dug up mummies on my behalf, so I took this one on myself.

The first reasonable article I found online was archive of past Wikipedia discussions debating the validity of the honey-in-the-tombs claim, which concluded that sufficient evidence doesn’t exist to support the tale. I continued to Google for far longer than I’ll admit here, and found nearly 60 references to the supposedly edible honey found in various tombs. Some of the stories say the honey was inside honeycomb, some say it was inside various clay pots, but very few source the information. The most credible sounding stories mentioned an archeologist named Theodore Davis. I found what seems like an authentic account he wrote in 1907 describing his discoveries in the Tomb of Yuya and Tjuyu in Valley of the Kings. Guess what? No honey. Davis wrote that he found a vase that contained a substance he first thought was honey, but later was proven to be natron, an embalming preservative. Myth busted!

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April 26, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
2 Comments

Sex education

Brushing a wood treatment onto the brood box

Take advantage of opportunities to scare your 13 year old daughter about the reality of pregnancy. Don’t worry about who may overhear.

Preparing the household for the arrival of 10,000 honey bees is similar to preparing for a new baby. You know there will be nurturing work to be done, and you kind of know what to expect, but there’s a limit to what you can do in advance to ease the new creatures into your life. Your baby could be a fuss pot with colic, or a sleepy angel; born diseased or ace the Apgar. It’s really all a total crap shoot. Not much you can do about the temperament of the critter coming out of the box. Same goes for honey bees. The bee breeder may have bred gentle, meandering Italians with methodical Carniolans. But there could be all kids of other breeds in the lineage. Like babies. Do you really know what your husband’s great grandmother did at night? But the one thing that makes all new parents feel useful is fixing up the room. Painting the nursery, wiping down the walls. Continue Reading →

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April 19, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
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Honey bees cost less than a sword, but more than steak

 

A hawk dropped this baby water turtle into my backyard. My dog tried to eat it. My daughter manicured it. Then we returned it to the pond.

A baby water turtle a hawk dropped, our dog mouthed and Fiona manicured.

This morning I found Seamus sucking on a tomato slice. It was a big red disc, by the looks of it one of those hot-house hussies that appear luscious but taste like old mush. I know he didn’t steal it from my kitchen, because I haven’t bought a tomato in months. I figure a hawk dropped it into my backyard, because that’s apparently what hawks do.

A while ago, I yanked a few tiny turtles out of Seamus’ mouth. I asked my neighbors if tiny turtles were appearing in their dogs’ mouths too, and eventually found someone who would talk to me. Ed, who has sadly since moved, told me the turtles I showed him were baby water turtles, and were probably picked up in a nearby lake by a hawk, and dropped inadvertently into my backyard. 

I’ve also been finding apple slices on my patio recently. Hawks are carnivores, so when they scavenge meat out of picnic sandwiches, they fly around spitting out the rejected fruits and veggies that must have been stuck to the meats and cheeses. I can’t verify this last sentence here because Ed moved away, remember. But it’s the explanation I’d been telling anyone who was around to listen as to why the sliced fruits were appearing. I fully expected Myles to weigh in on my theory with a Mylesesqe schpleal about apex predators or something equally arcane that I would hear but not get. Surprisingly, he didn’t. He just looked nervously at John, then walked out of the room. At which point John blurted out, “You should really thank Myles, because he convinced me not to buy a $300 sword online.” Continue Reading →

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April 12, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
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Bees live in the strangest places. Well, maybe not in fresh meat.

Lyle's Golden Syrup logo has used the lion and the honey bees image from the Samson story. The golden inside the can is syrup, not honey. But whatever.

Lyle’s Golden Syrup logo borrows the lion and the honey bees image from the Samson story. (Even though the “golden” inside the can is syrup, not honey.)

The other night I was reading Myles the story of Samson from one of our favorite bedtime books, the Kingfisher Children’s Bible. If you’ve never seen this book, let me tell you, it is one of the best bedtime books ever, no matter what religion you are or aren’t. The only thing you have to believe to appreciate the book is that the Bible is literature. The rest? Totally optional.

Kingfisher has short 1 and 2 page stories from the Old and New Testament, distilled to nothing but action and adventure, alongside vivid drawings. The print is big, the stories so concise, you can read each one in five minutes even if you’ve had two glasses of wine and can’t find your glasses.

Anyway, we’d read up to the scene where Samson — a tan, muscly dude with Continue Reading →

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April 10, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
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Native plants are a good choice for bee yards. But don’t let your family camp alone.

Native plants provide natural forage and habitats for honey bees.

Native plants provide natural forage and habitats for honey bees. Trouble is, sometimes natives are a bit scruffy looking.

John and the kids went camping Friday night. I stayed home because I had a long-standing arrangement to pick up my special order of Missouri native perennials for the bee yard early Saturday morning. Around 6 pm, John texted me that the camp ground was closed, and he’d let me know when they found a new site. I got very nervous. He’s a horrible driver, especially in the dark. He gets lost constantly. This is a man who walks into the neighbor’s house after work, thinking he’s home. One wrong turn in rural Missouri and my family would be sleeping in a trailer park of meth labs.

When I hadn’t heard anything by 7:30, I called him.

He didn’t answer his phone, so I filled his voicemail with everything I knew about meth labs. Continue Reading →

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April 5, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
2 Comments

Building a beehive

Honey bees build up their honeycomb inside a wooden hive that the beekeeper constructs.

Hive assembly is challenging. But at least there’s no risk of being stabbed by a miniature Victorian man.

Competent beekeepers are also competent carpenters. I’m telling you this because nobody told me, and I care about your goals. I figured bees do the carpentry, right? They build up the honeycomb. True enough, but the beekeeper has to build the hive boxes and frames that the bees build the honeycomb in. Beekeeping websites make this home construction look easy. It’s not. It’s home construction. Angles, levels, math, circular saws. Trouble is, as a hobby, backyard beekeeping is stuck in the early-1900s, back in the day when any fool could fix things around the house. If you had a hobby that in any way involved wood, you already had a home workshop.

Today many beekeepers still make their own hives. But more beekeepers buy hive kits, basically flat packs of unassembled pre-cut wood pieces. If you want to feel like a real pariah among beekeepers, you can buy a completely assembled hive. Don’t be surprised if other beekeepers look at your pockets when you confess you bought a pre-assembled hive. They are just waiting for you to pull out the $5 bills you burn for fun.

I’ve been cursed with enthusiasm for carpentry projects since I was 13, when Santa brought my little sister Lauren a Victorian dollhouse kit. It came in about 8,000 pieces, and I couldn’t wait to put it together and play with it. Continue Reading →

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April 2, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
2 Comments

BEE is an acronym

Honey bees are environmental engineers

Honey bees are environmental engineers

I often walk into the house and find my spawn writhing on the floor, moaning like they’ve swallowed live toads.

“Do you have appendicitis?” I ask.

“No. Math test tomorrow.” Or social studies, or science, or sentences. Whatever the homework, it’s always too much to face without a dramatic display of distress. But these same spawn have no problem memorizing and creating acronyms.

Here’s the one going around fifth grade:

SCHOOL = Seven Crappy Hours Of Our Lives

Fiona created this one about math: (Background note – The Irish and British way of saying “math” is “maths.” For example, “I lost my maths notebook.”  I can’t explain this anymore than I can explain why “Dying fer a fag after snogging me bird at her flat,” means “I really wanted to smoke a cigarette after I kissed my girlfriend at her apartment.”)

MATHS = Mentally Affected Teachers Harassing Students

To which John replied:

MATHS = Magically Awesome Teachers Helping Students

Once I stopped gagging, I was inspired me to come up with an acronym for bee:

“Hmmm. Bug…eating…energetic…eggs? This is hard… Hey got one! BEE = Buzzing each & everyday!”

Fiona found my acronym pathetic, and gave me a brilliant alternative:

BEE = Beneficial Environmental Engineer

I like hers best.

 

 

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April 1, 2013
by Suzanne Langlois
2 Comments

Egg hunt

The kids found these right away...

The kids found these right away… 

 

But they walked right by this one many times. Time to see the eye doctor?
But they walked right by this one many times. Time to see the eye doctor?

 

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