Lemon Tree Update, May 7, 2026

I’ve not posted a lemon tree update for quite a spell. Frankly, I’m mad at the lemon tree. It has yet to bloom or produce a lemon. Apparently, its main purpose is to function as a host for spider mites.

It’s very good at that.

A month ago, we pruned the lemon tree back as part of an effort to combat the latest mite infestation. The tree did pop back to life and is now growing rather explosively, but it remains without even the hint of a blossom.

Our calamansi lime tree, on the other hand, is a showboat of blossoms and fruit production. We’ve been plucking limes from it for months, and now it’s blooming wholesale. Though calamansi are the toy version of limes, only growing to the size of grapes, they are packed with flavor and are a must when preparing authentic Filipino cuisine.

I’m happy to have at least one cooperative tree.

I am posting a photograph of the lemon tree, with a Cold Smoke beer as a reference for size, and the calamansi lime tree with the same beer. I am also sharing a photograph of lime blossoms, which are milky and sweet.

The Lemon Tree (With a Cold Smoke)

The Calamansi Lime (With a Cold Smoke)

Calamansi Blossoms

—Mitchell Hegman

Springtime in Montana

Spring does not tell Montana what to do with the weather. The trees may be in bloom and the tulips standing tall, but if Montana feels like dropping twenty-some-degree temperatures on May 6 and frosting everything in sight, that is exactly what it will do.

So we answer in kind, tucking in our flowers for the night and turning up the heat inside.

—Mitchell Hegman

Fencing Logic

There are plenty of decisions to make when building a fence. You have to decide where it will run, what materials to use, where to place gates, and how tall it needs to be. A short fence works fine if you are keeping a toy poodle in, but if you are trying to keep deer out of a yard or garden, you need something much taller.

Desiree and I are building a tall chain-link fence to keep deer out of a section of our yard. One final detail remained: how far off the ground to hold the bottom of the fence. That one was easy. About two inches. It gives my weed-eater string room to work and leaves a quick escape route for any snake I might run into near the fence. Where I live, this is a serious consideration.

Posts for our New Fence

—Mitchell Hegman

100 Years Ago

There is every possibility that, 100 years ago, your grandparents were partying and closing down the bars on Saturday nights. Well, if not your grandparents, mine.

—Mitchell Hegman

A Few Lesser-Known Facts

• Longhorn cattle are not born that way.
• Parallel parking was invented by someone with an unstable mind.
• People who like painting houses are the marrying kind.
• The truth doesn’t wear underwear.
• The world could last only 15 days without bacon.
• Every extension cord believes, deep down, that it is permanent.
• You can’t outrun a craving for potato chips.

—Mitchell Hegman

Pick-up Sticks

Between pine beetle infestations and raucous windstorms, many of the surrounding forests are filled with fallen trees. This includes the Forest Service property adjoining the parcel for my cabin. That particular forest is comprised primarily of lodgepole pine.

Nature has not been kind.

The forest looks more like a giant pile of pick-up sticks. The lodgepoles have crashed down crosswise against each other, stacking high and making it nearly impossible to walk through. For the last few years, I have been sawing much of my firewood from this patch of timber. I have carved a clear swath through the mess and gradually worked my way up a fairly gentle slope. But the rounds are dry and easy to manage.

Honestly, I enjoy my time cutting into the downfall. I’ve always enjoyed anything that presses me harder against my mountains. I’m sharing a photograph of the forest and my truck filled with rounds.

My Truck Filled with Rounds

The Pick-up Sticks Forest

—Mitchell Hegman

Swarming Bees

Yesterday at midday, when I stopped to check my mail, I discovered honey bees swarming on the cluster of mailboxes. Bees are generally not looking for trouble and are not aggressive when swarming, so I was able to open my box and retrieve my mail.

Swarming is how a colony reproduces, a process in which the entire society splits in two.

The triggers for swarming typically appear in the spring when the hive becomes crowded and nectar is flowing. The workers feel congestion, rising heat, and an recognize an abundance of resources. A sense that they are strong enough to divide washes through the hive.

To prepare for a new colony, the worker bees begin raising new queens by feeding select larvae an all-royal jelly diet. At the same time, they slim down the current queen by feeding her less, making her light enough to fly. Normally, she’s a regal homebody, not a traveler.

On a warm day, often in the late morning, the hive reaches a tipping point, and the old queen leaves the hive, taking 30 to 70 percent of the workers with her. They pour out in a thick cloud, then gather again nearby, usually forming a hanging cluster.

Scout bees then head out to find a new home, sometimes miles away. They return and “dance” to argue their case, and through this democratic process, the swarm eventually lifts off and relocates, with the old queen once again laying eggs and producing a thriving colony.

Back at the old hive, a new queen rises to resume normal activity there.

When I drove past the mailbox array in the late evening, the gathering of bees was gone.

Bees Swarming the Mailbox Array

A Gathering

—Mitchell Hegman