From the Hive to the Honey Jar

Richard Henning rolled his two wheeled, flat bottom garden cart into the garage. The cart was made mostly out of wood and had uses that extended far beyond the garden. In addition to its garden duties, it also occasionally filled the role of fruit hauler, firewood hauler, and grandkid hauler. On this particular day it was a bee hive hauler. 

The Henning children hung back a little as the cart bearing four plain white boxes rolled into the garage. The bottomless boxes usually presented an excellent motivation to stay away as they typically contained hundreds of black and yellow insects which, despite their fuzzy appearance, were anything but cuddly.

“What are you guys so afraid of?” Richard inquired of his grand kids.

“Well,” Scott volunteered. “Bees sting.”

A chorus of “yeahs” punctuated the youngster's obvious statement.

“So?” their grandpa countered. “You've all been stung before. None of you died.”

There were eight grandchildren in attendance. They looked at each other and collectively shrugged their shoulders. Richard removed a slat from the hive. The eight inch by two foot slat was covered in wax capped hexagonal cells that were filled with honey. He carried it over to a square wash tub just a couple of inches smaller than the table upon which it sat. A small board spanned the distance across the top of the wash tub. Richard stood the comb on an inverted nail in the center of the board and reached for a knife to his right. The knife wasn't a normal knife. In was an electric heat knife. A heating element ran through the blade of the knife, keeping it hot enough to easily melt the caps on the combs. 

The children watched on bated breath as their grandfather ran the knife down the length of the come with practiced precision. The knife passed cleanly just below the surface of the wax cell caps causing them to curl over the back of the knife in a sheet, leaving the honey filled cells exposed. He turned the comb around and capped the other side. After the comb was completely capped, he set the knife down and carried the comb over to the extractor. The extractor was a galvanized barrel with several grated slots just wide enough for the combs.

As soon as their grandfather evacuated his post next to the wash tub, the grand children rushed to each grab a hand full of the honey soaked beeswax. They shoved the chunks of wax into their mouths and sighed with delight as the sweet nectar coated their tongues. Their lips smacked as they chewed the sweet, golden substance. Richard turned from the galvanized barrel of the honey extractor. He paused as he looked at his grandkids gathered around the wax tub, all chewing greedily. He shook his head and addressed the group.

“Be careful,” he warned in his calm, tenor voice. “If you eat too much honey, you'll get a tummy ache.” He paused as the group of youngsters looked around apprehensively for peer confirmation. “Don't take my word for it,” Richard continued. “It's in the Bible. In proverbs. Chapter twenty-five, verse sixteen I believe.” 

He smiled as he pulled another comb from the hive, capped it, and placed it in the extractor. The children hung back, resisting the temptation to partake in a second helping of the honey laden wax, lest they be filled therewith and vomit (Richard was an avid reader of The King James Version of the Bible). After a few minutes, the extractor was full and Richard was looking for a volunteer.

“Alrighty then,” he ventured. “Who wants to crank?”

Samuel, the oldest of the Jonathan cousins stepped forward. Richard pointed out the hand crank mounted to the top of the barrel and Sam got to work. As he cranked, the cage inside the barrel began to spin. The centripetal force propelled the honey from the comb against the inside wall of the barrel where it drained to the bottom. After a few moments, Sam stopped the spinning so that the combs could be reversed and the other side drained.

Meanwhile, Caleb, who was the oldest of the Dale cousins and Scott's brother, approached his grandfather with some apprehension.

“Do you think I could try the hot knife, grandpa?” he asked tentatively.

“Well,” Richard began slowly as was his habit. “I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to let you give it a try.”

Richard extended his right hand towards his grandson in invitation. Caleb made his way over to his grandpa and stood in front of the wax basin. Richard stood behind him and placed his left hand on the upper end of the honey comb. He directed Caleb to pick up the hot knife, warning him to be careful not to touch the blade. Richard placed his right hand over his grandson's knife hand and his left over Calebs comb hand. The elder Hennings well worn hands completely encased the youngers hands. Caleb could feel the roughness of his grandpas callouses against the back and the knuckles of his own hand as Richard gently guided Caleb through the process. With the comb successfully capped, Richard placed it in the extractor and pointed to the hive.

“Well,” he said suggestively. “Grab yourself another one and give it a shot on your own.” 

Caleb grinned broadly as he approached the hive. He returned to the wax basin, comb in hand and excitedly began his work. He carefully ran the knife down the length of the comb. Without his grandfathers guideline, his hand lacked steadiness. The knife waved in and out leaving some cells covered and cutting far below the surface on others.

“I'm not sure you were ready to try that on your own, bro,” Scott assessed as Benjamin nodded in agreement. “That thing is waving like the ocean, or something.”

“You'll get the hang of it, Caleb,” Richard encouraged, ignoring Scott's critique. “Just cap that section you missed and keep going. There's plenty of practice to be had.”

Caleb smiled as he flipped the comb over and showed marked improvement with the other side. 

“Grandpa,” Kelsey approached. “Is it okay if us girls go play outside? We're kinda bored.”

“I suppose that'll be alright,” Richard responded.

Kelsey, Kerry, and Joanna each grabbed a chunk of wax for the road, expressing intense satisfaction at the increased honey saturation due to Caleb's inexperience, and made their way outside. Caleb, Scott, Samuel, Luke, and Ben stayed with their grandpa, close to the honey drenched wax as they continued their work. 

“Grandpa,” Ben said with confusion in his voice as he struggled to crank the extractor handle. “This thing is getting hard to turn. What's wrong with it?

“Well,” Richard mused. “I believe there is too much honey in the barrel. It's probably up to the comb cage by now. Let me grab a bucket.”

He reach over Luke to an upper shelf and grabbed a clean white five gallon bucket. He set the bucket on the concrete floor underneath the extractor spout and opened a gate valve. A thick stream of amber honey poured from the spout, into the bucket. The boys gasped slightly as they watched, memorized by the thick liquid.

“That's a lot of honey,” Luke stated with a certainty that screamed experience.

“Well duh,” Caleb confirmed with a more than a little sarcasm. “And we're not even done yet.”

“Are we going to put it in jars now?” Samuel inquired as the honey reached the top of the bucket and Richard closed off the valve. 

“No,” Richard replied as he snapped a lid over the top of the bucket. “Grandma and I will do that later. We'll just fill up these bucket until we're done so that we can keep our momentum going.”

The boys nodded in agreement even though they didn't all know what momentum was. They carried on their work until Kelsey opened the man door.

“Hey,” she said with borrowed authority. “Grandma says it's time to get everything cleaned up for supper. The apple dumplings will be dine in thirty minutes.”

“Okie dokie,” Richard responded as he turned to his underage honey extracting crew. “We did good today, boys.”

Dad's Haymow Secret

“Keep 'em coming, Scotty,” Dale Henning called from his perch in the north haymow. “We've got two more wagons to mow.”

Eleven-year-old Scott nodded as he plunged the long john into another fresh alfalfa bale and yanked it from the pile in the wooden hay wagon. He dragged the bale the six feet to the side opening of the wagon and set it cut side down on the conveyor. The long john was a bale hook that measured about two and a half feet from the handle to the hook. The hay wagon was a flat bed wagon with nine foot high sides. The front of the wagon was wide open so the small, square bales could be thrown into the wagon with the kicker on the baler. There was a four foot wide opening that went from the wagon floor all the way to the top of the wagon enclosure that was closed up with chains during baling so that the bales stayed in the wagon. During the unloading process, the chains were unhooked so that the wagon could be pulled up to the conveyor and unloaded from the side.

Dale would usually pull out enough of the bales to create a small platform around the lower end of the conveyor so that Scott had enough room to work. Scott's job was to send the bales up the conveyor where they would sometimes roll off the end and hit another strategically placed bale and bounce towards the stackers. Most of the time, his older brother Caleb would just grab the bale with one of the small hooks and carry it over to their father. 

Dale was the mow master. He grabbed the bale with a bale hook in one hand and nothing in the other. He slammed the bale into place, always cut side up, using both his arms and his knees to ensure tight stack. Each layer alternated bale orientation to ensure a well interlocked stack. The bale stacks had to be built just right because they went all the way from the floor of the barn to the rafters of the roof which was at least twenty five feet to the top of the wall and a good ten feet further to the peak of the roof. 

It was a hot day, and mowing bales tended to be sweaty work, but the three Hennings made relatively short work of the three loads of hay. When Scott got one wagon empty, Dale would pull it out and back the next one in. They'd each take a swig of water from a shared cooler and get back to work. Within a few hours, every bale was mowed. Dale and Caleb took a seat in the mow and surveyed their work.

“Scott,” Dale called down to his younger son. “Why don't you grab the water and join us for a moment?”

“Sure thing,” Scott replied.

He took a quick drink and unplugged the conveyor. He climbed up the old built-in mow ladder and joined his brother and his dad. The two older Hennings drank deeply as the younger “inspected” their work.

“Looks good,” he joked with a wry smile on his face.

“Thanks, Scotty,” Dale responded with matching humor. “A solid haymow is certainly something to be proud of.” 

He stood up and walked to the north wall of the mow. He reached down and pulled up a bale, set it to the side and turned back to the boys.

“I'm particularly proud of this part.” he stated as he gestured towards the hay. “Well, come check it out.”

The boys got up and walked over to where their dad was. They looked in the direction he was pointing and were completely surprised at what they found. At their feet was a two foot by three foot opening that led into a hidden room.

“Well,” their father pressed. “Check it out.”

The brothers smiled at each other and scrambled through the opening. The room was surprisingly large. It was about five feet tall, four feet wide, and ran half the width of the haymow. The vertical gaps in between the rough-sawn barn siding provided a surprising amount of light. The boys sat down on the foot wide, built it bench and peered through the gaps at the roof of the lower stall barn below.

“This is so sweet,” Caleb exclaimed as their dad smiled from above.

“Glad you like it,” Dale called down. “I'm heading to the house. Be there in a half hour for dinner.”

“How did you not see him making this while you were up here?” Scott inquired if his older brother as their dad walked down the conveyor. “You were less than ten feet away from him the whole time.”

“I have no idea,” Caleb responded. “But what's that saying? Don't gift a look horse in the mouth?”

“Something like that,” Scott replies with a giggle. “This is so much cooler than anything we've ever built.”

The brothers spent a few minutes chatting about what they were going to do in their brand new, parent sanctioned, bale fort until they glanced at their wrist watches and decided that it was time to get to the house for dinner.