Walked the ridge before the post office and left the hive tool at home. My thumbs were stiff when I fastened my shoes, but they had nothing to grip once I got going. The uphill warmed me through without the trapped heat of the bee suit. Coming down, I took the longer bend for the knee. There was a cool patch under the trees where I stopped a minute and could feel the sweat drying on my neck. I was hungry by the time I got back. Ate breakfast at the table instead of carrying it around while I looked for something. A body can apparently do a fair morning's work without lifting a single box.

The association page has another question about buying equipment. Everybody is answering with the setup they own, as if a beginner needs thirty hives' worth before buying a veil. I started a long reply and cut most of it. First I want to know how much space they have and who will help them learn. That is what my old neighbor asked me, though I was mostly interested in how soon I could get honey. I have a picture of his smoker I could use, but I cannot find it among all the jar photographs. The girl says I need folders. I have folders in the honey house. Apparently those do not count on a phone.

Texas called while I was washing jars. I nearly started telling him how many were left, then he asked what I was cooking and we spent a while arguing about the way I make beans. Apparently the Army has not improved his judgment. It was good to hear him laugh without a bad connection cutting him off. I sat down and left the jars where they were. He told me a little about the men he spends time with, actual names this time, not just somebody from the unit. When we hung up the house felt too quiet for a minute. I put the radio on and finished washing. Glad he called. I can write that much without giving a production total.