Lady Farmer?

Isn't there a feminine word that means a woman who engages in farming activities? I guess when I say "farmer" that implies a tall barrel-chested man wearing denim coveralls, cowboy hat pulled firmly down on his sweaty brow, scuffed but sturdy work boots, and flannel to me. Aside from the sweaty brow part, that isn't any of me. And when we talk about someone who engages in just a bit of farming in the backyard -- the odd chicken or four, garden plot bigger than a postage stamp, and at least two fruit trees -- we call them a "gentleman farmer." What gives? My husband, who is blessed with many talents and interests, does not count agriculture among them. So he's certainly not the gentleman farmer. I guess I will settle for Lady Farmer, Mistress of Soil and Sun. Hmm. That's a bit better.

My first beekeeping class was great, if not a little on the long side. That's okay, though, because I have a great deal to learn. I won't try to share everything our first class covered because we covered a HUGE amount, but I'll share a bit of the more interesting things I learned. I learned a honey bee only lives about six weeks, and that her life span is better measured by how much hard flying she has to do. I learned it's against Utah law to keep aggressive honey bees (sounds good to me). Our founding fathers kept bees, many of them, and the variety they kept were called German Black bees and they were an ornery breed. And I learned how to "hive" my two batches of bees that will be coming (fingers crossed) at the end of April. That's when you manage to coax 12,000 bees to take up residence in a brand new beehive built just for them. And that's how many bees, approximately, come in a 3-pound package. I'm going to be getting Italian hygienic bees. They're bred for noticing and removing mites that are capable of reproducing (they ignore the sterile ones). Mites are bad and are one of the serious problems afflicting our honey bees. And I go back in two weeks to learn some more.

And welcome to our newest household members: five Rhode Island Red chicks. I called ahead to our local farming supply company to find out when and what time their spring chicks would be arriving. So this morning found me there, waiting anxiously for these little Rhodies to be unloaded from their postal box. They're going to be living in a toilet paper box penthouse for at least the next few weeks (but not in the kitchen as pictured!). Hopefully the weather will improve enough in six weeks that they can move out to the garage into some other kind of enclosure. Maybe I'll track down a refrigerator box for their upgrade.