Start Where You Are, Use What You Have, Do What You Can (Friday 25th Oct 2024)

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 …

Swarm Troopers (Thursday 23rd June 2022)

Just three days ago, I documented the arrival of not one but two colonies of honeybees, reinstating me as an actual beekeeper since Storm Eunice toppled by last remaining overwintered hive back in February. Here I likened honeybees to busses – wait long enough for one and two then arrive together. Well, it turns out I was wrong. Three is the magic number. Why? Because, within hours of writing that blogpost, up popped a call via a Facebook community group: ‘Help! A swarm has landed in my garden!’ Lucky for me, I was the first to respond, and they are now happily settled in a polynuc, awaiting relocation to a full-size hive as permanent home. Retrieving a swarm is such a magical experience – I’m yet to meet a beekeeper who has tired of watching a colony ‘march’ willingly into a box (the trick is to get the queen in first – once she is safely in there, the rest will follow).

This is a slightly bigger swarm than the one that arrived into the bait hive, but smaller in number than the purchased colony. And, again, they are beautifully dark in colour, some with a fine deep golden stripe/others with slightly wider gold band – and a lovely calm temperament. And what a wonderful midsummer Solstice gift – from zero to three colonies in three weeks flat! I have not yet seen the Queen in this one – I sneaked a peak inside, briefly, this evening (to get a ‘feel’ for size and temperament), but I won’t be disturbing them for a week or more (other than to add supplementary feed and precautionary varroa treatment), leaving them in peace to get on with the important business of drawing out comb (building ‘furniture’) so that the Queen can start her essential work of laying eggs to produce more bees. There is just the one other job for me at this early stage: I’ve never previously named any of my Queen bees, but feel I want to from now on – starting with this one, who I am dubbing ‘Amanda’, after the lady whose garden she and her entourage decided to land in.