Saturday

a day of sun, bees & the promise of spring

It’s Saturday morning and I sitting in the sun. The light has changed so much in the past week or so and I have found myself seeking new corners of the house to find warmth. We had our first frost last week, nothing to scathing. The dahlias while starting to sink into the ground are still blooming but I have noticed that slippers are looked for first thing in the morning when I get out of bed and we are closing in the house not long after six pm, pulling the curtains shut to keep out the arrival of the cooling night. Autumn it seems is fully here and the winter is whispering. I pretend I can’t hear winters call. As I sit , I am eating a custard plum pastry with two sets of beady eyes watching every mouthful. They are adamant that this should be shared. I refrain, it is too good to share and it is only when I get to the final corner that I do so. A piece for you and a piece for you.

Earlier in the morning, before said pastry we got up, packed up the car and headed off. In the boot a bee hive. We were moving it from the garden to our yard which we have out in the country. This yard is on land that belongs to friends, initially their parents and now theirs. There is something beautiful about this friendship which moves with the season. It one of quick catch ups. The ‘how are the bees”. “Take some hazel nuts or chutney”. “Here is some honey”. We come and go with the life cycle of the bees. When we leave after our early morning visit, I wonder if it is our last visit for the season. It feels cold enough to suggest so.

The hive we move is one box. It was a split we made a few months early. A starter hive that resided in our garden, building strength for the coming cold months. We move it to the country to a yard where we had only one hive this year. There are normally 4, sometimes 5 and I think in the many years we have been beekeeping there, it is the first time our numbers have been so low. We lost hives mainly due to a late cold snap in spring. The pest Varrora mite hasn’t helped. We are moving to varrora resistant queens in the hopes that our hives will survive a season better than they currently are. It is a hard time to be a bee keeper. We have noticed that the numbers of those who bee keep are on a decline.

We unload the car and place the hive in its new home. We have a contraption I guess you can call it, which we have given the name, the marriage saver. I am 5ft 6 while the other half is 6ft 4 so lifting hives is a bit of problem just purely based on arm length. This contraption , a metal frame of sorts, allows us to hook the hive box centrally and we can lift it holding handles (badly described). It works very well no matter what the arm length. We mark the spot where the new hive will live, grubbing out a line, then adjusting. The sun is still firmly behind the hill and it will most likely be mid day before it hits this yard. The other hive is still sleeping. It is too cold for the bees to be flying. I watch as the other half works to ensure the hive is flat, evening out the soil. I wonder if the bees will miss the garden which is still flowering, even if it is a lot less compared to the height of summer. I know that when we leave bees will come out and orientate themselves, forming circles, looking for land marks so they can find their way home. This hive has a tree beside it, a silver birch, I guess it is kinda like a mail box for the bees.

Once the hive is settled and the tools are in the car, we drive off down the paddock to the gate, the sun having inched up a little more. I still feel the chill as I open and close various gates. Our friends are inside. No doubt enjoying a good cup of coffee and a leisurely start to the day. There will be no ‘how are the bees’ catch up today. As we drive back to town I think of how this season has been for us. One I think of quiet regrouping for various reasons. I think of how taking this little hive out to the country yard felt like a promise of the new season to come and I find it very reassuring that we have that to look forward too. That after the cold winter months that spring will return and these bees will know their tree as a sign of their home. They, like me, will be beginning their spring.