What We Teach Our Kids

I'm so mystified by the behavior I just saw at our neighborhood pool, that the only way I can reconcile it in my mind is to write about it.

Our pool is about two blocks from our house. Anyone can join, and we've always loved the families we see there each summer.

I was there this afternoon with Kate. Often, in past years, we've witnessed honeybees, and native bees, coming in for drink, only to drown. I showed my kids, early on, that you can put your hand under a drowning bee, lift them up out of the water, and put them on the side of the pool, all without getting stung. I think the bees are so relieved to be out of the water, so concerned with drying off and getting the hell out of there, that they are uninterested in stinging. As long as you are gentle while removing them, there is no problem.

Many times over the years I've shown people at the pool how to do this. Most of them look at me skeptically, and I'm not sure they ever really believe me, but at least they will call me over if there is a drowning bee, and I can get it out if they are uncomfortable with it. If I'm not there, I have no idea what people do. I think, if I were afraid of bees, I would probably find a way to scoop the bee up with some water and throw it over the side. Or maybe I'd just swim away from it. (I'm not sure I could leave any creature struggling in water, but other people might be able to do that.) Today, I witnessed what one man thought was the right solution.

He was in the pool with his two small children. I'm sure he was worried for them. It's possible one has an allergy to bee stings, I don't know. But as I was getting ready to leave, I heard this big, strong, capable man say, oh no, a bee. Then he proceeded to whack it with a foam noodle, several times, and going as far as to say to his son, this is how you kill bees in the water.

I went over and asked if it was a honeybee? He said he had no idea. I said, it could be from my hive... You know, you could cup your hands under the bee and put him on the side, along with the water in your hands. He looked at me like I was crazy. I said, I promise it won't sting you. He said, I'll hold you to that - if it stings me, you're to blame. I said ok. He gingerly did as I said, however throwing the bee hard onto the concrete. It landed on its back. I put a finger down gently and let the bee cling to it. It climbed onto my hand, fanning its wings. The little boy looked at me like I was the bee whisperer. The dad still looked at me like I was nuts. I said, there we go! We rescued a bee. And I said goodbye and walked out the door, still holding it.

As I was leaving, I heard the dad say to his son, don't ever do that, just kill the bee with the noodle.

Now. I understand being afraid of bees. I understand being afraid of bees around your kids. But I don't understand actively teaching your children to kill them. I double don't understand that when someone shows you that you can rescue them safely that you would STILL teach your child to kill bees.

As I've said before, I'm not fond of spiders. In my head I get their importance. But in my little girly heart, they creep me out. In a million years, I would NEVER kill one in front of my kids, instructing them to do the same. Instead, when they were young, I worked very hard at a faked nonchalance and confidently took the spiders outside. Why would we teach our children to fear something so important?

Does this father realize that one out of every three bites he eats is a direct result of a pollinator? What would happen if the bees disappeared? Does one bee even matter? Does one spider matter? Does a creepy beetle? What about a beautiful hawk? I could go on and on and on, but you get the point. This man made me sick. I find his behavior unattractive, ignorant, and sad. I hope his kids get great science teachers, or nature teachers, or go to lots of summer camps, where they can learn how to react differently.

A Day at Home

My First-Grade client was unexpectedly sick this morning, and did not go to school.  I suddenly saw the day stretch before me, promising and empty: Would I nap? Watch that recording about the making of "American Idiot - the Musical" that I have on the DVR? Start a new book? Play Plants vs. Zombies?

Then I remembered all the chores I had to do. Rats. However I have to say it does feel good to knock some things off my list.

First, I went for a nice long walk with Joe the dog, in Las Trampas. I was the only human on the trail, and it was SO quiet and peaceful. Suddenly a huge bird darted up before me and in to the trees. It was something I'd never seen before. I couldn't get a good picture, but when I came home, I looked it up - and it's some kind of grouse.


It was a beautiful bird, and one I never expected to see.

Later on, I discovered a funky bug on a gorgeous unknown blossom.


Further up and further in, we even found water in the creek. Joe enjoyed it particularly. I didn't much like the mosquitos.


Hard to believe there is any water in nature left anywhere in California by this time of the year.

Then I started in on chores. I won't bore you with most of them, but one I thought you might be interested in: I collected the seeds from the spent Clarkias (Mountain Garland), Poppies, and Tidy Tips. I strip the plant of all its seed pods and then put them in a paper bag. There they stay until next winter. At some point they dry up and pop, and then all the seeds will be down at the bottom of the bag when I want to plant them.


This is a bit tedious (the collecting part) but it's easy, and I'll not need to buy seeds next winter. Also, these big healthy seeds are from plants that did well in my garden, so I'm selecting the hardiest and prettiest plants. I left some seeds on the plants to open and scatter now, and it's possible that some will over-winter and bloom again next year. The Tidy Tip seeds are like dandelion seeds - they scatter like crazy - so I'll probably find them in a bunch of places I don't want them, next year.

Another fun thing I did was begin the trellising for the pole beans. Originally, they were supposed to twine up the corn, but since the corn is struggling this year, the beans need support. So I fashioned something out of bamboo poles and a long branch that came off the catalpa.


Now I just need to drill some screws in the wood of the raised bed, and stretch some taut twine between the branch and the bottoms. Then the beans can grow, and if the corn wants to get its act together and grow too, it can work its way through the trellis. The pumpkins down below and in between have got a great start, and should soon be vining and mulching around the bottom of the bed,  so the corn better get busy if it's gonna.

These hot sunny days, the bee hive smells particularly strongly. I can smell it through the open windows, and even when I'm out working in the street. It's not a bad smell, but it's different enough that I'm sure someone walking by would wonder what it was. It's hard to describe. Feral, gamey. Very rich. Somewhat the same words I use to describe tomato foliage smell, but where tomato foliage has a  tangy green scent, the bee hive smells rounder and plumper, plummy. It's part honey, part wood, part wax, part propolis, part pollen, I guess. I like it.

Ok, now on to more mundane tasks like laundry. And I've got nothing to say about that, except that my idea of heaven? is a place without laundry.

Looking around the garden

This morning, I needed to give the garden some supplemental water, and while doing so, I saw some interesting things.

The peaches are going to be ripe before the end of June. We'll have quite a crop. I pruned this tree heavily several years ago, and it looks like it's finally recovered this year.


I don't like fuzzy peach skins. But I do like sweet juicy peaches! Can't wait for these to ripen. I plan to freeze a lot, for use in smoothies, and maybe pies later on in the summer.

The apple tree is also responding well to having more sunlight; the fruit is growing larger than it usually does. This is a small English variety (I think); the apples do turn to a faint red color when ripe, which won't be till late summer. They are tart and crisp, and put the old apples in the store to shame.


I noticed another dog vomit fungus. I've never seen these before, and this year I've had two. I wish I had caught this one in its bright yellow stage, but at least I got to see it in its pukey white glory. They don't last very long.



The bees are working over the Toyon and collecting its nectar. Toyon is a native plant in California, it is evergreen most of the year, but in late spring gets these delicate white blossoms. An interesting tidbit from Wiki: "Toyon is also known by common name California holly. Accordingly, the abundance of this species in the hill about LA gave rise to the name Hollywood."


The butterfly flowers are particularly beautiful this time of year. They do bloom again if I give them a vigorous pruning, but are prettiest in their first bloom. I rarely get butterflies in my garden, however. This makes me quite sad.


And a dahlia is blooming. I don't have many of these, they tend to attract aphids in my garden, but this one by the mailbox comes back reliably every spring.


And, this is a bad photograph, but I'm so excited about it, I'm going to show it to you anyway. In the raised beds - the nitrogen deprived raised beds - we have a  PEPPER, ladies and gentlemen.


Hooray!