A strong wind began blowing late last night and throughout this morning. From looking at the pecan trees over the past few weeks, I knew that there would be a good chance that the nut casings were dry enough that the trees would start raining down seeds. As the wind kept blowing I hopped on my bicycle to hit the usual spots.

The first few trees I looked under were hit and miss, but I started to find a few good spots. I noticed other folks out with the same intentions of foraging, and chocked up the dearth of nuts in some areas to them beating me there. In the well traveled areas I saw a father with his two little girls going after the nuts under some trees at the elementary school. Some older women were hitting the trees at a church. I went behind them and managed to pick up a few pounds anyway.

I brought home what I had, ate some lunch, then headed out to my old neighborhood where I was sure to find more people picking up nuts but also more trees – plenty for everyone. When I rolled up to a tree near an old gas station, things started getting weird.

An old woman came up to the tree with a cardboard box. We exchanged quick greetings, discussed the weather and then began racing to see who could gather the pecans before the other. In the middle of all our bending down, the woman yelled my way then starting walking towards me. She insisted on telling me that she left her teeth in the car and showed me her toothless mouth. Sensing that this was her way of letting me know that she needed the nuts more than I did, I packed what I had gathered in my backpack and thought about where to go next. While I was getting ready to go she told me about all the old trees she used to pick under and how they were mostly off limits now, either because they were now fenced in or cut down because of disease or development.

At that point a guy on a bike stopped quickly in the parking lot beside me. I jokingly told him that it seemed like everybody had the same idea about this gas station tree. He said he had another idea, a “bad idea” and kept saying that he wished he didn’t have to do it. He reached into his pocket and I immediately knew what he meant. My stomach sank and my heart began to beat with some ferocity. He wanted my wallet and my bike. Before I knew what was happening I was pedaling across the parking lot making like I hadn’t heard what he said. He didn’t follow me, instead turning the other direction and pedaling quickly out of sight. The old woman was gone as well.

I chilled out for a minute in order to make sure he wasn’t coming back. I continued to pick up nuts across the street from the parking lot, scanning the streets in all directions. When I was satisfied he was no longer interested in me, I headed the opposite direction.

It gets weirder… While in an alley I was squirted with a squirt gun by a middle aged woman. She was laughing while she did it, and never asked me to leave or stop picking up nuts. She just thought it would be funny to spray this guy who was bent over in the alleyway. Time to move on.

I went into another alley. A couple of women were sitting on their back porch smoking cigarettes. They invited me to come into the yard and pick up as many pecans as I wanted. The yard was loaded, the most pecans I had seen in a long time. They were small but there were more than I could pick up in a full day of work. They engaged me in conversation the entire time, asking me where I worked and such. They asked that I bring some veggies in exchange for the pecans, and I let them know that I would bring them a jar of apple sauce after I left their yard. At that point they both got up and insisted on singing me a song. They locked arms and started a small routine to an old jazz or blues tune.

They sang pretty well, but it was unnerving. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be saying or even if I was supposed to be paying attention. As they continued, gunshots from a few blocks away crackled in the air. Their song and my foraging continued without pause. The gunshots were too familiar to all of us I guess, and that is what made it all so incredibly weird; we didn’t stop and ponder what was going on. Around the time the sixth police car flew by I figured it was time to go.

When I had two full bags of pecans I told them again that I would bring them a jar of applesauce. I biked home, grabbed the sauce and went back. Their back door was wide open, the television muted and flickering near the window. I yelled inside. They quickly came and accepted the jar of cooked apples. One of them grabbed my arm and insisted that I play dice with them. I nervously sat in a stool overlooking an overturned painting that served as the dice board. They taught me some sort of casino dice game that made very little sense. I played, lost and got up to leave. One of them gave me a hug, said it was nice to meet me, enjoy the pecans, bring us some peppers or tomatoes “when you have a chance”.

I was relieved to finally get home and take stock of what I was able to pick up. It seemed to be about twenty or twenty five pounds, a pretty good haul for one day.

One very very weird day, but well worth it, if not for the pecans but for the stories that are now attached to them. The sun was setting after I dumped the bags, red clouds against the leaves of our humble backyard pecan tree. Hopefully the vortex is done spinning its weirdness for the time being, and I can get to work on shelling the bags of nuts.

I am pretty much fascinated by pollinators, not just honeybees, but moths, wasps and the big bumblebees that get drunk on nectar, sitting immobilized on a swaying branch of flowering basil. For many years I have wanted to get involved with beekeeping simply because I want to watch the bees go about their routines.

My first brush with a beekeeper came last year when Kristin bought her car from a guy who kept bees in his backyard. He also happened to be the Star News reporter who took a picture of me in front of a biodiesel tanker. Half a year later at another photo shoot I asked about checking out his bees. Unfortunately I never got to connect much further than that initial question about the hives.

A few months ago some friends let me know that they knew folks who kept bees and also lived in my neighborhood. They each gave me the beekeepers’ contact information and left me to it.

I don’t usually hesitate when contacting strangers, but in this instance I was paralyzed for some reason. I was about to actually get involved with something that I had talked about for several years. Critical mass… I had a phone number and an email address, so, after a few weeks of deliberating, I sent off an email. Sporadic correspondence came and went, and I finally met up with the beekeepers at a friends wedding. I had plenty of questions for them, and it seemed like we talked about bees for quite a while. We left the wedding with promises of going to check out the hives in the next few weeks and to sit down and discuss equipment.

They called the next morning… That afternoon I was riding in their car out to the hives. They brought along an extra bee suit so I was able to get up close when they inspected the hives. Through the process of opening the hive I was able to see all the parts I had been reading about in various beekeeping books. I finally understood what I was reading, and it all started to make some sense.

The keepers were looking for signs of wax moths, a hive pest that can destroy a weakened hive in a very short time frame. The beekeepers were also winterizing the hives, adding food and removing supers that did not have much comb and honey buildup.

The process of opening the hive starts with smoking the entrance and the top of the hive. This induces the bees to gorge themselves on honey, making them too heavy to move quickly and less likely to get rapidly agitated.

Next they removed the super, which holds ten frames on which the bees build a comb and insert honey or brood.

The wire grate is the queen excluder which prevents the queen from entering the upper parts of the hive. This prevents her from laying eggs in that part, which gives the beekeeper access to the extra stored honey.

Another insect problem that the hives fight is the small hive beetle, a recently introduced pest that can also cause bees to abandon the hive. Small beetle traps are placed in the hive to keep the beetle in check. The trap is the black square in the above picture.

After they put the hives back together, confident that the bees were healthy and ready for the winter, my head was full and a bit overwhelmed. I feel confident that I can take on beekeeping, and I look forward to learning more of the hands on details of working with these awesome creatures.

A reader asked me to share a beginner book list for getting started with local eating. I looked over my bookshelves and typed up what I had as well as adding a couple books that I had seen at friend’s homes. I will add to the list as I find new books and try to make it a bit more user friendly.

For now, you can find the rough book list here or through the permanent link at the very top of every page (alongside the resources). If you have a book suggestion, please leave a comment on the books page and I will check into it. If you want more information on my experience with a certain book or if you have any questions about anything, please leave a comment or send me an email using the address on the About page.

Sourdough starter is good for other things besides sourdough pancakes. Since I found a banged up pie pumpkin, I figured I would try to come up with a recipe using baked pumpkin along with the starter and some foraged hickory nuts. The result was a dozen muffins.

I started with a basic sourdough pumpkin bread recipe that I found and modified it beyond recognition.

1 – Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

2 – Quarter a pie pumpkin, scooping out the seeds. You can save the seeds and roast them if you have the time.

3 – Place the quartered pumpkin skin side down in a baking pan with a quarter inch of water.

4 – Cook the pumpkin until it is soft. This usually takes about 30 minuted but will vary depending on the size of the pumpkin.

5 – When the pumpkin is finished baking, scoop the flesh from the outer skin and puree in a blender or food processor. If the pumpkin is too dry to puree, add a little bit of water to get it started. You will need only one cup of pureed pumpkin for twelve muffins. Turn the stove up to 400 degrees while you proceed with the next steps.

6 – Beat two eggs. Add one cup of sourdough starter.

7 – To this mixture add two and half cups of flour (your choice), half a teaspoon of salt, half a teaspoon of baking soda, one teaspoon of baking powder, three tablespoons of cinnamon, three quarter cup of honey and a handful of hickory nuts or whatever nuts you have available.

8 – Mix, being careful not to over blend.

9 – Pour the batter into muffin pans and let sit for twenty to thirty minutes.

10 – Bake the muffins at 400 degrees for twenty to twenty five minutes or until lightly browned. Check the muffins with a fork or toothpick. If the fork comes out clean then the muffins are done.

11 – Cool the muffins out of the pan.

Recipe wildly adapted from online resources and mostly made up as I went along…