Jimmy & The Bees

Ever since I’ve known Michael, I’ve known Jimmy. They were the basement boys; I met them as my neighbors six years ago. I married Michael last year, and by marrying Michael, I’ve committed myself to a lifetime of Jimmy. After all, Michael and Jimmy do have matching tattoos. While some may have run the other way knowing the stipulation, I braved the challenge- a lifetime of Jim.

Alright, since sarcasm doesn’t always translate through writing, I should probably let you know I’m only kidding. I love Jimmy like a brother and adore his eccentricities. He has always been one to think and do outside of the box; in this case, the bee box. So, let’s talk about bees.

This year is the first year in the history of the continental U.S. that a bee required federal protection when the rusty patched bumblebee, a once prominent pollinator, was placed on the endangered species list. According to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, this bumblebee has declined nearly 90 percent since the late 1990s / early 2000s (not that long ago!). While the cause is multifactorial, disease, pesticides, climate change, and habitat loss are big players. The hard part of this news- these are human driven causes. It’s time that we take notice, educate ourselves, and take care of our environment and as a result, our small but important pollinators. Without these pollinators, we would be without more than one third of our food crops which contribute billions of dollars to the economy and put real food in our tummies. Sure, it’s easiest not to care; to believe that one type of bee is insignificant in this world of 20,000 bee species and 3,600 in our own country. But hey, it’s more important than ever. We, the human species, have more impact on this world than we are responsible with. It is evident in where we place value- on things, on money, and on the individual rather than the collective. The bees are a model for the values that we, as a species, lack. It is time to slow down and take notes from some productive, hard-working, selfless citizens of our world- the bees.

Jimmy returned from Kuwait and Afghanistan after a year of service in the military. He says that he spent plenty of time reading and thinking while away. I heard him conjure up many ideas of what he would do when he got home. He talked about borrowing my husband and sailing the world but the wild idea that stuck was buying bees. He cultivated this, and I got to keep my husband… for now.

Jimmy got his knowledge from youtube videos and Beekeeping for Dummies. While you can buy a beekeeping beginner’s kit, Jimmy made much of his own equipment and saved money doing so. That’s right ladies… he’s handy and single! After two years of learning about bees, this is Jimmy’s first season as their caretaker, and today, I follow him around as this novice beekeeper explains what he’s learned.

He starts with prepping the smoker. Jimmy says that the smoke he creates prevents a sting as the bees sense a forest fire and with this response to danger, they fill themselves with honey should they need to evacuate. With bellies full of honey, they don’t want to sting as this would lead to their death and a waste of the honey the hold.

Jimmy then gowns up to approach the colony. I laugh as Michael puts on the upper body garb too but disregards the fact that he is wearing shorts and sandals. As Jimmy pulls out the frames, I say “Jimmy, you seem like a pro”. He responds “Just wait until one lands on me” and describes the time one landed on his hand and he dropped the frame. He worried after this that if the queen was on that screen, he could have potentially hurt her which would have meant destruction for the whole colony. Although the hive is full of females, she is the only one that can reproduce. As he pulls out the screens, he watches for the queen. “If you know what you’re doing, you find her. I just look for eggs. They look like grains of salt. If I find fresh eggs, I know she’s alive.” He also checks for mites or for a bad smell; mites could attack the colony while a bad smell could indicate disease.

Soon, bees are flying everywhere. I sit in the grass as they hover around me. I always thought this experience would be chaotic or frightening, but now, it’s peaceful. I say this from a distance as Michael says “this is definitely the most bees I’ve ever been in” as he stands with his head in the hive in his cut off shorts. I guess he’s not that scared either.

Jimmy explains that 99% of the worker are female and adds “so this is what it’s like when women are in charge… they get shit done”. Jimmy still has not met his queen, and no, I’m not diverting back to the single Jimmy thing although that would also be applicable. Michael and Jimmy inspect closely until Jimmy exclaims “There she is! Holy shit, she’s huge!”. I can’t help but make my way down in to the swarm to see the queen; she is certainly distinguished. Jimmy tells us that she only leaves to mate with the goal of getting a variance of genetics; “survival of the fittest kind of stuff”. Jimmy does this hive check weekly. He inspects his ten frames for overall health. At the end, he smokes the bees so they duck away from the top of the box; he doesn’t want to crush them.

(Queen Bee pictured below… can you tell which one?)

We discuss the complexities of bees, and as a novice beekeeper, I can tell Jimmy has already developed a respect for these intelligent and hardworking creatures. He admires them in saying:

They’re so smart. Like they make these perfect hexagon shaped honey combs, and they can’t even talk to each other. For example, the three of us could get together, talk about it, go to Home Depot, and still not make something as good.

It’s true. Bees are amazing. In writing this, I spent two mornings reading all I could about bees. On a rainy afternoon, I encourage you to take time to do the same. I can tell you that the level of intelligence they possess is surprising. The way they work together for the good of the hive is admirable. They are systematic and adaptable. While adaptable, like us, they still need their basic needs to be met. They need a good habitat. They need us, the humans, to stop messing with it and to restore it where we can. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife website listed these simple ways to help the habitat. It stated to “provide a mix of flowers”, “plant flowers in early spring”, “don’t mow or rake”, and “be pesticide free”. Let’s take care of the bees, honeybees and bumblebees alike, so that they can in turn, continue to take care of us.

As for Jimmy, he’s still single… with bees. You’re welcome Jim for morphing this in to a dating ad. Also, he bought a sailboat. I’m a bit worried Jimmy might take my husband and sail the deep blue. Perhaps, this is why I somehow turned this into a dating ad. Any ladies out there want to go sailing? If you have first mate experience, please apply.

 

 

Dreamers At Work

I got home from work at 2:30am last night. Working as a nurse in downtown Minneapolis is anything but monotonous; it can be a little chaotic and a lot of crazy; it is challenging and fast moving. I love it, but by the time my shift is over, this is where I want to be. At this time of night, the docks are quiet, the water surrounding them is still, and my neighbors are tucked away in their floating homes. As I enter the wooded marina, I breathe easier and move slower. While the sound of call lights continues to ring in my head, my lone footsteps on the dock finally quiet them.

At 2:30am, I am surprised to see another soul awake. It is John. He works late on his trimaran preparing it for June 8 at 5am when he and four others plan to race this not-yet-ready boat in the R2AK. It is a 750 mile race from Port Townsend, WA to Ketchikan, AK. You must sail with no motor and no support boats. With the race nearly one week away and the boat currently afloat 1,760 miles from the starting line, I’m a little nervous for them. I spend a few moments with John, and as he shows me his project successes from the night with a smile that not many people can hold up so well at 2:30am, I believe in him.

Today, May 31st, we have a perfect afternoon. It’s sunny and still. It’s a project day in the marina. With the holiday weekend and spotty storms behind us for a couple of days, every captain in this place has big eyes and working hands.

Bob across the dock is refurnishing his wood trim. Rick, one dock over, is trying to fix leaks around his windows; he says this is a problem every Chris Craft of that era has; we yell across the water as we talk about this. On our boat, we added plywood to our top deck floor to stabilize and level it. It was two day project finished today with fiberglass, paint, and parquet flooring that Michael bought on Craigslist.

As the evening moves on, I visit the trimaran and find Juan. No, I’m not just calling John “John” in Spanish… that’d be confusing. Juan is John’s friend and a fellow sailor ready to take on the R2AK. Tonight, while John is at an open house for the Lake Calhoun Sailing Club (he’s an Associate Director there), it is Juan’s turn to get this trimaran race-ready.

John and Juan are roommates. They met in college when they both went to the University of Minnesota. They met on the water of course. Like all boat people, they got to talking about how to fix one or the other’s boat problem, and before they can do anything about it, they’re buddies forever. They are both Wisconsin boys; John from Milwaukee and Juan from Wisconsin Rapids. I lived in Wisconsin once and still had to ask where this was; Juan tells me its right in the middle of the state. Juan was born in Mexico; his family moved here when he was one year old. As Juan tells me more about who he is, I feel akin to him. His outlook is familiar.

Juan sailed for the first time when he was 10 years old. Then, like me and so many others, the teenage years brought distraction. He was in to sports, hunting, and girls. In college, Juan got a degree in chemistry. When I ask what he originally went to school for, Juan says “for knowledge mostly”. I don’t know why but the choice to get a degree in chemistry surprised me a bit… maybe because we just spent the last ten minutes talking about travelling and for some reason, being in a lab and being out in the world seem like two different animals. Juan told me about taking a few semesters off to backpack in national parks, play music, and spend time WWOOFing on a vegan permaculture farm in California. I related to him on these experiences, except on the music thing; in this, I lamented to him about my ongoing failed harmonica attempts. Juan plays harmonica, drums, guitar, and some ukulele. I’m jealous.

Juan told me that at one point he wanted to be a farmer. This, I understood. Michael and I talk of this often- having our own small farm. I watch my dad and my grandparents find ultimate peace and joy in this work. I ask Juan why he got a degree in chemistry. He tells me that his initial idea was to get educated in environmental water chemistry. Aahhhh… this makes sense to me now. Juan is smart and ambitious. I’m sure you’ve gathered this by now. He spends time with our waters and doesn’t want to just use the resource, he wants to preserve it too. I understand this. In this small revelation, I am proud. During a time when much of the world would rather look away from the environmental problems at hand, I find others my age that care. Juan is one of them. I see this same inspiration in my marina neighbors who gather garbage from the waters when they go out kayaking. I see it in my parents who love their land, my dad out “cleaning the woods” to make it the best habitat for what lives and grows there. I see it in my husband who adores the small details of what we have in our waters and woods; who lights up when he sees a new plant, tree, or animal.

Juan tells me that studying environmental water chemistry was “actually kind of depressing”. I don’t even ask why; I know the answer. I think back to yesterday when I walked in to work behind a lady who threw a half cigarette to the ground right before she entered the building. I wasn’t sure why this set me off. I see cigarettes on the ground all the time and of course, there are bigger problems than one cigarette on the ground, but observing her total disregard for her surroundings must have done it for me. There was a garbage can right next to where she threw it; she didn’t even look at it. I picked up the cigarette, put it out, and threw it away. I continued to feel pissed off for the next hour. As I sat in work reviewing my patients’ charts, I wondered “why is this still bugging me… let it go Chels”. Now, in talking to Juan, I am reminded that it matters. To have an environmentally conscious chemist out there, I am thankful. To be an environmentally conscious nurse, this matters. To maybe someday be environmentally conscious farmers, this is huge.

At this point, I ask Juan how old he is. He’s my age- 28 years old. I only met Juan today; brought together by the water. It is how I’ve met so many people that inspire me; people that care about our world, how we treat it, and how we treat each other. My neighbors on this water are creative, smart, bold, and unafraid. They live in the environment because they care about it.

I once had a friend throw a piece of garbage out of her car. I said something and picked it up. She responded “oh yeah, I suppose you live in the environment”. This was over a year ago now and it has stuck with me. We all live in the environment. What is going on that not everyone feels this way? How do people not see the impact our habits have? How do we fix actions that are so commonplace, so dismissed; like throwing your cigarette to the ground with a bunch of people watching? I still don’t know the answers to all of these questions but I think about them every day. I hope this is the first step to something.

I help Juan hold the electrical panel as he cuts around it to fit the wall. We drink beer as we talk. Todd throws us two more Hamms from the dock. Juan works at Rahr Malting where he is a QC Project Manager, Micro-Maltster, and Assistant Brewer. He’s a bit of an expert in beer so I’m surprised in his gratitude for the Hamms. I invite Juan over for dinner. Michael made steak and asparagus. Juan says he ate already today and when I ask him if he’s on a one meal per day diet, Juan says that lately he is. With the time crunch of getting this boat ready while still working full time, Juan has been getting five hours of sleep and one meal per day. I am thankful that Juan finally agrees to eat after we put the food in his hands.

 

It’s Wednesday; the trimaran gets hauled out on Friday; I know he has a lot to do so I appreciate how present Juan is when we talk. His looming projects include getting the electrical situation squared away, mounting the solar panels, setting up the rigging, and attaching steering platforms. Juan tells me that at this point, the boat is not seaworthy and the five of them have yet to sail together as a team. Whether or not they are ready and able to do the race eight days from now, they will still sail to Alaska, get to know the terrain, and be more than ready for the race next year. I ask Juan about his future. Water will always be a part of his life; he loves sailing. He’ll probably stay around here for a while. He’s ready to set some roots. I realize I feel akin to him because of where he’s at in his life. He has stretched his legs out, carried a backpack around the country, and ponders on what he can do to be good for the world. In all of his exploration, he has found that making a difference where he stands makes the most difference.

As the sun sets, the dock gathers together to unwind from the project day. We finish dinner, drink beer, and talk about what was accomplished. Somehow, conversation turns to plumb bobs and we discuss these for what feels like an hour. It’s surprising how many jokes sprout from this conversation on plumb bobs. I am educated on the variety of plumb bobs that exist. It’s soon 10:30pm, and I retreat to the boat with plumb bobs on the mind. Alright, I’ll let you go before I babble on. It’s time for me to go to bed and time for you to google what a plumb bob is. Also, Michael wants you to google “plumb barbara”; do so at your own risk. Goodnight now.

Our Three Small Spaces

Neighbor Girl

In 2011, a boy and a girl from two different and smaller parts of the state found themselves as young 20 somethings in the big city of Minneapolis in the same apartment building we’ll call “The Phoenix”, mostly because that was the building’s real name.

On the girl’s move in day was when she first saw the boy. He was drunk and smoking cigarettes on the front stoop with his loud friends; how can you not fall in love with a scene like that? Despite this special first impression, the girl got to know and love these boys; they became like the brothers she never had; well, except for one… because that would be weird. That one was Michael. While Michael lived only three floors away, it took three months for them to truly meet again. The rest is history.

Michael was special in a way this girl knew nothing about. It was an easy love and five years later, they were married. In that first year at The Phoenix while still playing it cool, the boy referred to the girl as “Neighbor Girl” and his friends, family, and coworkers soon knew her as such.

In year three, after backpacking around the world for six months, this boy and girl came back to Saint Paul, Minnesota and mustered up some change to buy their first home together- a steel hull beauty of 32 feet in length and 10 foot in beam. They named her Neighbor Girl and this couple’s tiny living love affair was underway.

The Northern Post

Minnesota’s north shore and nearby woods is the most spiritually invigorating place we have ever been to. After Michael’s daily trolling on obscure property sites, we found the perfect 40 acres of wild near the north shore town of Two Harbors.

Over one year and with no road in, we hiked in all the supplies needed to build an off grid, one room cabin.

Shout out to the amazing family and friends who got coaxed into this madness; it was not a walk in the park but often times a trudge through knee deep snowfall.

After 1.5 years and a completed cabin, this 40 acres continues to be our spiritual haven and our home base of creativity and wild ideas.

The Wheel House

In the unassuming southeast corner of Minnesota lies the hidden gem and natural wonder of Winona… a place where brilliant minds and creative hands are born. Okay, I may be biased. Winona is my (Chelsi’s) hometown; it is where I fell in the love with the wild Mississippi and the people that line its shores.

In the heart of Winona, you will find an island of nearly 100 boathouses, an established community of funky folks that has existed for over a century and after going to battle for legal legitimacy in the 1990s, was finally grandfathered in and legally accepted as livable in 1997. While the city will not allow new boathouses to moor, the roughly 100 boathouses that exist today will continue to have the legal right to moor at their designated site on the island. When the opportunity arises to purchase and restore a piece of your hometown’s history, it’s an obvious choice; you gotta do it. This one was definitely in our wheelhouse ;). The rebuilding / remodeling of our backwaters boathouse has just begun. Stay tuned to be a part of the madness.