Yesterday, after a proper night's sleep or so, Drew and I visited the farm of one Brock Krider. Brock has been commuting from Dallas to maintain blueberry, blackberry, and apiary operations. As if this weren't cool enough, I was permitted to pick black berries to my heart's content. Being genetically selected cultivars, they had no thorny bramble and harvest proceeded easily. Slugging back Anheuser-Busch's less than extraordinary products, we gathered around 25 pounds. Note: Calloway County Kentucky is officially dry and even across the nearby Tennessee state line, the beer selection is not great. When in Rome, right?
From Krider's Blackberry slaughterhouse we moved to Milburn Kentucky to begin harvesting honey. The process involves blowing smoke at the bees to stun and disorient their chemical communication and then checking for coverage of slats with honey-filled hexagons. Taking one box weighing about fifty pounds back, we blew out the remaining bees, secluded ourselves in the garage lest nearby hives go berserk looking for honey, and we cut the tops of the wax combs off so the honey could be centrifuged out by hand. That was fun.
So many fireflies the eyes could not tell them apart from the stars.
Hah, after beeswaxing eloquent on the benefits of eating raw honey, I am enjoying a Sunday of aggravating nasal drip and sinus pressure. Kentucky pollen, a worthy nemesis you are.
Drinking a very smooth clear moonshine while cooking shrimp and catfish etouffee.
Drove through some nasty rain but got through it.
It is hot as balls here at mammoth cave, but the bike trails are fun. Historic cave tour tomorrow. A few miles underground sounds like fun to me.
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