Daisy?

A cooler day today, but still suitable for inspecting bees; I helped Tyro do a simple examination of her colony – her first this year and only her second time ever. She couldn’t find any eggs, a common problem; they look like a half millimeter long piece of white thread at the bottom of a honeycomb cell. The trick is to have the sun shining over your shoulder down into the cells and then try to decide whether it is really an egg you see before you, or the sunlight glinting off the shiny wax. The exam is in July, so she hasn’t much time, and her examiner will be occasional blipper: Janes11. Some time, in the not too distant future, beekeepers may need to be licenced and will need to produce a certificate to qualify; bearing in mind the problems created by PPBs (Piss Poor Beekeepers, an American expression), it’s probably a good move.
 
Mrs TD took me out to our excellent local Italian Joint for a meal this evening, it was very gracious of her as she is not too keen on venturing forth for dinner, preferring to save the occasion for lunch. The occasion was a triple celebration of yesterday which was Queenie’s 90th birthday, our umpteenth wedding anniversary, and my twiddley-umptieth birthday. This triple conjunction of the planets is very handy; wakening to the strains of the national anthem preceding the news on the radio prompts me to wish Herself a happy anniversary, and Herself to wish me a happy birthday. The forward planning umpteen years ago does much to lubricate marital harmony.
 
It is worthy of note that the Italian Joint serve a very good liqueur coffee to which I am particularly partial, though I seldom get around to making it myself. The diet starts tomorrow, though neither of us will want to eat for 48 hours anyway.
 
The strange mutant daisy in the blip is in the middle of our lawn amongst many of its more conventional brethren.