honey bees – SomewhereinwestCornwall

This quote is commonly attributed to American tennis player Arthur Ashe (1943-93), as a variation on a theme reworked by many, including American President Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919) whose 1913 autobiography includes the phrase: ‘Do what you can, with what you’ve got, where you are’ (which Roosevelt himself ascribed to the far less familiar: ‘Squire Bill Widener of Widener’s Valley, Virginia’). It’s a philosophy that’s stood the test of time, and one that I’m applying in all areas of life – including my overgrown allotment, which has suffered the effects of neglect for the last couple of years, as evidenced in the brutally honest, absolutely-not-Instagram-Worthy Reality Snaps below …

Fortunately, I have a willing workforce of friends and family pitching in to help – I really could not be doing this now without them – and it shouldn’t take us too long to re-establish some kind of order. The basic structure is already there, and while it may not be obvious to outside onlooker, there is a lot of good already going on, amid the mayhem. I have my shed (a bit rickety, needs fixing, but does the job) crammed with *stuff* (mostly useful), compost heaps, burning bins, and various water features (two baths, a child’s sand pit – all sunk into the ground). There’s a barrel BBQ (rusty but functional) and a jumble of chairs, for essential rest and re-fuelling, a stash of children’s toys (for when my grandchildren come to ‘help’), an array of tools and a whole heap of equipment (pots, pots, and more pots), all awaiting their destiny.

It’s certainly a marathon, not a sprint, this allotment lark. Intermittent efforts over the non-existent summer yielded a freezer-stash of Greek Gigantes butter beans, and the promise of late-autumn yacon (a sweet tuber unavailable to buy in the shops), while permanent fixtures such as the double row of currant bushes, rhubarb patch, and perennial herbs are all going strong – as are the bees – despite their unkempt surroundings. And then there are the surprises – a late-flush of red poppies, for example.

Obviously, there are many who would ask: why bother? The answer comes down to the very basic: because I want to, because I enjoy it, and because I am not dead yet. Life is for living. In whatever way makes us feel still alive. Even if it means no longer doing so much of the actual ‘doing’ yourself, but instead asking for – and accepting – help, from those willing to give it. This is the reality of life with so-called ‘invisible disability’.

The main point is that I am still here, and I have a plan: to start where I am, to use what I have, and to do what I can …

What a difference 6 months makes. Ditto: three years. And, oh, how time flies. Back in February I lost my last remaining colony of honeybees to Storm Eunice. The previous year had been an odd one (not only for me but others beekeepers I’d heard of, around the world): starting 2021 with 6 healthy colonies, I ended with just the two, with one of these becoming queenless, so I’d combined them together and they survived well overwinter – until Storm Eunice arrived, and that was that. Prompted by a friend I set up a Crowdfunder, aiming to raise sufficient funds for a replacement colony, and was amazed at the generosity of friends and strangers: enabling me to get going again.

In my Crowdfunder pitch, I stated my intention to thank each contributor with a jar of honey from the new bees. However, honey production is unpredictable, so I’d given myself (and the bees!) an 18-month timeframe, to avoid undue pressure. So, what a joy it has been to find I’ve been able to do this sooner rather than later, thanks to these wonderfully busy bees very quickly producing an impressive stash of honey, largely due to these past few weeks of wonderful warm weather. I’ve taken only enough to reward my Crowdfunder supporters and others who’ve helped me. The rest is staying on the hive for those busy bees: they’ll continue to make more in the coming weeks, so that, come autumn, they’ll be well-stocked with honey to get them through winter, ready to get going again next spring.

In the meantime, of course, I also caught two swarms, taking my total colony collection from zero to three, in a matter of weeks. The first one, I caught via the magic of a bait hive, set up in the back garden at home. The second one I retrieved from a nearby garden, following a shoutout for ‘help’ on social media. This second one I’ll write about another time. The first one was a small swarm, with a beautiful red-brown queen who got straight to work, laying eggs as fast as her daughters could build the comb for her to fill … they have, however, taken some time to expand, and have struggled with wasps robbing their precious food stores. They’ve remained living in a small hive atop the playhouse in my back garden, where I’ve been enjoying watching them going about their busy-bee-ness; checking in on them every now and then until, this week, I felt they were ready to move on, and I relocated them into the ‘spaceship’ (as I call my Eat Natural Pollenation hive) at Crows an Wra (not far from Land’s End).

It’s not the prettiest of beehives, and there have been some issues with it (a novelty design trailed specifically for this project). I had to bodge-up a reinforcement roof covering (because the original roof let water in), and it could definitely do with a new paint-job … but the heavy metal legs are sturdy (meaning it won’t – fingers cross! – go over in future wind storms) and it is dry and secure inside … I’ll keep using it until it can no longer be used. And then make a new plan …

I actually haven’t been back to this apiary site since retrieving the toppled hive back in February, and was not entirely surprised to find the place overgrown with gorse and brambles: though I was a little shocked to discover just how much it had grown – towering at nearly 2m high!! Astonishing, the difference, since I first sited my bees there back in August 2019. Fortunately, my glamorous assistant (aka husband) came along to help; clearing a path to leave the spaceship nestled securely in a protective enclosure of thick gorse and brambles – providing shelter from the wind AND a source of pollen-&-nectar bee-food. Win-Win.