Thrum's The Word

It's late August, but the heat and humidity are hanging on. Thankfully, most of the things I've planted thrive in this type of climate...especially the tomatoes. This yellow flower tells me that I've got another wave of sweet, juicy tomatoes coming.

We've got lots of tiny, marble-sized tomatoes. After removing their wee fuzzy tops, my husband pops them into his mouth by the handful.

The zinnias are still holding on, providing nectar to the hummingbirds, bees, and butterflies, and seeds to the goldfinches. This black swallowtail was quite busy! Because of the large crop of caterpillars, this garden will see many more of these beauties next year. The caterpillars have already disappeared after gorging themselves on dill for about a week. They've made the slow migration to pupate.

This common buckeye spreads its wings without fear. Predators mistake these markings for the eyes of a much larger creature and give this fellow a wide berth.


My macro lens allows me to get closer...


...and closer!


An Eastern-Tailed Blue butterfly is caught in the act of laying eggs on this leaf.


As the season slowly starts to change, I see new life in the garden. This little butterfly is a new arrival in my small garden.


This Ailanthus Webworm moth stays low on this bronze fennel stem. They look more like beetles than moths, since they hold their wings close to their bodies when they're stationary.


A few weeks ago, my husband and I went to a beekeeping class. I've been interested in beekeeping for years, but hesitate to start a hive in the city, because of the close proximity of neighbors. I'm just biding my time, though! The class was really informative, and the teacher was kind enough to allow me to take photographs.

First we learned about the common equipment used. This is a smoker. Beekeepers fill them with bits of flaming cotton and twine and stoke the fire by squeezing the miniature bellows attached to the back of the smoker. Bees need to be "smoked" when the beekeeper approaches the hive. Normally, guard bees will sound the alarm to attack when something suspicious comes near. Delivering gentle puffs of smoke confuses the guards, and they don't issue their warning, thus decreasing the likelihood that the beekeeper will be stung. This is a practice that dates back to ancient Egypt.


This wooden hive is one of the most beautiful I've seen. A hive is just a series of boxes, like dresser drawers, stacked on top of each other. Bees, introduced to a small hive, slowly and systematically fill it with brood (at the bottom) and honey (at the top).

A small feeder is attached to the front of this hive. No flowers are available to gather food from in the winter, of course, but bees will have a store of honey in the hive to feed on. However, if this runs low, a beekeeper can attach a feeder filled with sugar syrup to the front of the hive.

You can order bees by the pound (a typical order is 3 pounds, which is around 12,000 bees) from a multitude of suppliers. Bees come, yes, to your post office, packaged in a small screened in box like the one below. The queen bee is kept separate, in a small box with a candy cork. By the time the bees eat through the cork to get the the queen, they are used to her, and she becomes one of them, instead of being viewed as a strange and potentially dangerous invader.

The live demonstration begins! First, the beekeeper (regrettably, behind a fence) builds a clean fire in his smoker and squeezes the bellows to provide oxygen and keep it going.

Next, he suits up. It's a rare beekeeper indeed that wears the full-body suit. Most people wear the hat and gloves, and take care to tuck their pants into their socks.

Here, he quickly smokes the entrance to the hive to confuse the guard bees...


...then, gently pries off the lid of the hive.


More bees fly out of the top. A few puffs of smoke cause them to disperse.

He pulls out a honey-filled and bee-covered frame to demonstrate. A few light taps and a bit of smoke, and the bees flee.

The frames, swollen with honey, are brought into the classroom. Individual frames usually have to be pried free with the tool shown below, as they are sticky with beeswax and honey residue. A few bees, still stubbornly clinging to the frames, release and buzz harmlessly overhead.

This silver barrel is the extractor. It has 4 slots in which the honey frames are placed after they're gently scraped to open up their wax caps. There's a hand crank on the side and a spigot at the bottom. Once the 4 frames are in place, the handle is cranked vigorously in one direction for about a minute. Then the frames are removed and turned so that honey can be extracted from the other side as well. More cranking...

...and the honey flows out of the spigot at the bottom, through this filter (which catches bits of beeswax and unlucky bees), and into a clean 5-gallon bucket.


One hive can produce over 150 pounds of honey in a single season! I can't wait to start this hobby.

Speaking of hobbies, I indulged one of mine this weekend by making the trek to Stitches Midwest in Chicago. With a friend, I combed through stall after stall and came away with just enough yarn (can you ever have too much?).

This MacKintosh sock yarn in Jade is just like springtime.

I can never get enough wheat-colored yarn (also MacKintosh sock).

This Malabrigo yarn is heavenly to touch. Reasonably priced and unbelievably soft, it's no wonder this is one of the most coveted yarns for knitters. This is just begging to be made into a warm hat and soft gloves.

I usually prefer earth tones, but this vibrant red candy cane-style yarn from Cherry Tree Hill caught my eye. I think it will make a very cheerful pair of socks.

This alpaca-cotton blend from Rowan is so beautiful and soft. I'm going to make a striped hat and gloves for myself with it, I think. The colors go together so well.

This almost rust-colored yarn with a purple tint was interesting. Another offering from Cherry Tree Hill, it's got a great springy, stretchy quality.

Finally, another skein from the MacKintosh line, with the delightfully evocative name of "well water." I love blue yarns and this might be the nicest I've ever found.

Inspired by my trip, I decided to experiment with roving. Roving is wool taken from the sheep, washed, and gently combed. Torn into small pieces, it can be knit into mittens or socks with a method called "thrumming."

I was pleasantly surprised by how easy thrumming is. I took 1 1/2 inch pieces of roving and rolled them slightly to make them more compact. Then I knit the cuff of my sock and a few rows of stockinette. When I was ready to insert a thrum, I simply laid the sock yarn over the needle as if I were knitting it, and then folded the thrum on top. Then I knit both at the same time. Easy!
The thrums made attractive "v"s in the sock fabric.

The roving is so soft. Can you imagine how warm and soft it would be to put your foot into a sock lined with roving?

I love it!

Unfortunately, no time for cooking this week. In my quest to simplify my life and pare down my belongings, I've gotten rid of 25 garbage bags of clothes and 15 Rubbermaid tubs full of "stuff." It's hot, sweaty work and I haven't cooked anything in a week...unless you count boiling water for pasta! Even as I type, I'm conscious of the work that's waiting for me when I finish. I'm looking forward to the cool autumn days when the house is clean and organized and I can, guilt free, curl up with a good book after a hot bath. Just another month!

Enjoy your week!

A Walk in the Park

As much as I like spending time in my yard, crouched in the bushes with camera in hand, I decided to expand my horizons this week. My knee still has a limited range of motion and needs to be forced out of its current comfort zone, so I decided to limp over to the local city park to stretch my legs...literally.

I like to walk in the early morning hours, before thumping stereos and noisy families mar the tranquility. Early morning means less humidity and more opportunities to see things that might not be visible later in the day.


This fox squirrel (Sciurus niger) was busily nibbling a walnut when I approached. Fox squirrels can weigh as much as three pounds and are much more brazen than their grey counterparts. This little fellow scolded me loudly for my interruption.


Why was this carpenter bee (Xylocopa) hiding beneath this zinnia instead of gathering pollen from above? He was just having a quick rest. Bees have been known to nap multiple times a day for up to twenty minutes at a time!


Coneflowers (Echinacea) are the real workhorses of the garden. They're perennials that require little care and thrive in the Midwest's relentless summer heat. Bees and butterflies love them, and they're so beautiful. I was charmed to read that the word Echinacea comes from the Greek word for hedgehog. It's easy to see the connection when you look at this flower's bristly center.


Coneflowers provide a perfect backdrop for this patch of Liatris, another workhorse that brings bees and butterflies in droves. If you look closely, you can see a carpenter bee visiting a liatris stalk on the right side of the photo.


When I first saw a mulberry tree, I was amazed. The fruit looked just like blackberries, but was growing on a tree! Mulberries are edible, but they don't have the acidity of other fruits so need a little lemon juice to enhance their flavor.


I have Endless Summer hydrangeas in my yard, but I've always had a soft spot for oak leaf hydrangeas. They are not for the organized gardener, as the branches sprawl untidily in all directions, but they have a special beauty that makes up for this indiscretion. The flowers are delicately veined and come in pale green, cream, and pale pink. I never get tired of looking at them.


There's a beehive at the park, and I love watching the bees at work. I'm biding my time until I can become a beekeeper myself. Bees are endlessly fascinating. At first glance they seem a busy tangle of wings and stingers, but watch! They communicate with each other by performing intricate dances. Incredibly fastidious, they remove dead bees from their hives to maintain cleanliness, dropping them neatly on the ground below. They use their wings to regulate the temperature within the hive. They are remarkable creatures!

The highlight of my day was capturing a shot of this strange-looking creature.


At first glance, I thought it was some kind of spider. But after counting three sets of legs, I knew it was an insect of some kind.


It's an assassin bug (Heteroptera). As you could guess from the name, they are very aggressive insects that lie in wait for prey and then use a long tube called a rostrum to impale their hapless victims. They can inflict a very painful bite to humans, but are good to have in the garden for pest control. They generally don't bother people unless provoked.


All in all, a very pleasant and productive way to get my physical therapy hours in!

Some frustration on the knitting front. I worked feverishly to finish my final knee sock, shaping the long gusset and finally binding off the softly rounded toe. When I held it up to the first sock, though, I discovered that it was a good two inches shorter in length!


I'm mystified, since I followed a numbered pattern. Aggressive blocking gave me another inch, but the difference was still very noticeable. After a panicked Ravelry consultation, I made the decision to snip off the foot of the too-short sock, put the live stitches on holders, frog back and then re-knit the leg, and finally, graft the new leg onto the disembodied foot. I'm steeling myself for this procedure and hope I have the courage to "make the incision" next week.

Incidentally, do you know why knitters refer to the ripping-back of knitted fabric as "frogging"? It's because you have to take your work in hand, look at your mistake, and then rip it back. Ribbit, ribbit, just like the frog says. It's nice to have a charming term for this, because it can be very unpleasant to frog days or weeks worth of work in this manner.

I've been fairly inactive in the kitchen. I did make two rustic sourdough loaves that rose beautifully and produced a wonderful 'crumb' when baked.


This makes a fabulous sandwich bread. Yesterday I grilled two chicken breasts and diced the meat. I mixed it with chopped onions and a homemade spicy chipotle barbecue sauce, heaped it onto slices of my freshly-baked bread, and topped it with organic lettuce from the garden. A nice treat for my husband!

I have another treat for him today. He has been working on his dissertation from home most days, but commutes to work once a week for meetings. Today was another lengthy commute, followed by meeting after meeting. I decided to make him a tasty little morsel for dessert tonight.


I made an old-fashioned skillet cake. Pears, apples, almonds, and spices are sauteed in butter and enveloped in a sweet batter, then baked until the batter puffs golden brown. This is similar to a dutch apple pancake. The real secret to this recipe is nutmeg, and lots of it. The kitchen smelled so good while this was baking!

This recipe is adapted from The Ultimate Cooking Course.

Apple and Pear Skillet Cake
Serves 6

1 apple, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
1 pear, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
1/2 cup almonds, coarsely chopped
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
3 eggs
3/4 cup flour
2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
3/4 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
4 tablespoons butter

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. In a bowl, toss the apple slices, pear slices, and almonds with the cinnamon and nutmeg. Melt the butter in a skillet and then add the fruit mixture. Cook until lightly caramelized, about 5 minutes. While that's cooking, beat together the eggs, flour, milk, sugar, and vanilla. Pour batter over the fruit and transfer skillet to oven. Bake about 30 minutes.

You don't need a fancy cast iron skillet to make this...I used a regular pie pan.


I hope you enjoy it...I know my husband will!