A beekeeper’s notes for February

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On Saturday 14th February I saw the white snowdrops in flower and the purple crocuses opening. Winter aconite and catkins of the hazel and the willow will also blossom bringing the year’s first forage for bees.

Ealing beekeepers were at the scout hut for their monthly meeting. I stood outside the entrance of the hives and noticed not a single bee took to the wing. The stillness made all other movements sharper.

I watched a red-breasted robin hopping in the thorny foliage and breathed as a magpie swooped down to pick a twig to build her nest.

I found a spider crawling on the fondant under the roof of a hive and two slugs sliding in the dead leaves beneath the floor of another.

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Alan Gibbs arrived just as I had put under varroa boards to check this month’s mite drop. He had come with his spade on this cold, rainy day to lay more paving stones in the communal area. Betty Gibbs was sensibly waiting in the car outside the apiary, reading a book.

We then looked at the fondant under the roofs. I had brought more in case it was needed, but Alan said they had “quite enough”.

A chilly February can be a time of uncertainty for beekeepers with thoughts of wakeful bees kept inside the hive as the winter larder runs bare. I gave each hive a heft for weight of stores. In particular Melissa’s and Pepper’s were very heavy, while Chili’s and Chamomile’s were lighter. Nothing to do but observe, February is also a time to rest and wait as everything unfolds.

With that, I said goodbye to Alan and the bees, and waved to Betty on my way out. John too was sensibly waiting for me in a warm car. There were flowers, cards and chocolates sitting at home.

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This is a short and sweet post like the month.

Emily and I have decided to use paper records for our hives again. Our blogs provide an online diary of beekeeping, and I’ve found electronic records or apps sometimes difficult to access or just fiddly to use on my phone during a hive inspection. Also, it seems better to keep records under the hive roofs at the apiary, in case other beekeepers need to read them.

Here’s a start on preparing our hive record sheets for the season ahead, based on others we have used and ideas for monthly reminders. Let me know in your comments if there’s anything you would include, I’d be interested to know how to improve them:

Hive records 2015 pdf
Hive records 2015 Word doc

And a note on something less practical and more frilly… Sometimes there is snow in February, which makes me remember my favourite passage from The Snow Queen, A Tale is Seven Stories, by Hans Christian Andersen.

In the second story about a little boy and a little girl, Kay and Gerda sit by frozen windows to watch the snowstorm. They lay heated copper farthings on the windowpane to make a peep-hole to look outside…


”Look! The white bees are swarming,” said the old grandmother. “Have they a queen bee, too?” asked the little boy, for he knew that there was a queen among the real bees. “Yes, indeed they have,” said the grandmother. “She flies where the swarm is thickest. She is biggest of them all, and she never remains on the ground. She always flies up again to the sky. Many a winter’s night she flies through the streets and peeps in at the windows, and then the ice freezes on the panes into wonderful patterns like flowers.”

“Oh yes, we have seen that,” said both children, and then they knew it was true.

“Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked the little girl.

“Just let her come,” said the boy, “and I will put her on the stove, where she will melt.”

But the grandmother smoothed his hair and told him more stories.

In the evening when little Kay was at home and half undressed, he crept up on to the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A few snowflakes were falling, and one of these, the biggest, remained on the edge of the window-box. It grew bigger and bigger, till it became the figure of a woman, dressed in the finest white gauze, which appeared to be made of millions of starry flakes. She was delicately lovely, but all ice, glittering, dazzling ice. Still she was alive, her eyes shone like two bright stars, but there was no rest or peace in them. She nodded to the window and waved her hand. The little boy was frightened and jumped down off the chair, and then he fancied that a big bird flew past the window.

The next day was bright and frosty, and then came the thaw—and after that the spring.”

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A beekeeper’s notes
A beekeeper’s notes for January

Venice, city of water and light

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In the cold month of February comes St Valentine’s Day, the 14th, with skeleton trees in parks and plants shrivelled away by frost. It seems a strange season to celebrate romance, but I saved this pretty picture post for when winter should be stirring with thoughts of spring.

In December I was whisked away for a birthday surprise to Venice. John had planned the trip in secret, revealing our destination last-minute at the airport. I was so excited – Venice, an impossible city floating on the water, just a few hours away by plane.

John is a seasoned traveller, but even he was struck by the uniqueness of Venice. Our boat bus took us past brightly coloured buildings along the canals, water seeping in doors and lapping at shuttered windows. The city, said to be founded with the dedication of the first church at the stroke of noon on 25 March 421, is built on 117 islands linked by bridges across waterways.

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We stayed at Piazzo St Marco, the main public square with gulls flying over the famous Basilica during the day and fairy lights illuminating passage ways at night. Walking in Venice is the best way to get around the little streets and bridges. It is a quieter place in winter with fewer tourists and, of course, no cars. Breakfast views of early morning gondolas to night-time scenes of beautiful moonlit palaces, Venice is a jewel of old world charm, art and architecture, culture and history. Here’s our holiday highlights…

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As travellers we felt welcomed by the local culture and traditional way of life.

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Of course, we had to do the tourist thing.

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How’s this for romance? The house where George Clooney married Amal Alamuddin.

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A short island hop took us from the main city to Murano, a beautiful paradise of rainbows and glass.

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And twilight had so many colours mirrored in the skies and seas.

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Venice by night is magical, like stepping back in time. I felt truly spoiled – thank you John for the most wonderful birthday surprise!

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We needed only a few days to become familiar and fascinated by Venice. Flying away from the city of water and light, John found a video that explained: How does Venice work? Enjoy watching Venice backstage…

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Winter studies: Lessons under the hive

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As February is around the corner, there’s a chance for new beekeepers to visit the apiary ahead of the beginners’ course. This year’s cohort are keener than ever to look inside the hive, but the recent cold snap has meant roofs are just briefly lifted to check the fondant.

Last Saturday I took out the varroa monitoring boards beneath the mesh floors to count the mite drop for the week. Andy Pedley used this as an opportunity to give the beginner beekeepers a lesson in what you can learn under the hive.

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You can tell a lot about the colony in winter by looking at the varroa board, including its size, position, and activity. I held up Pepper’s varroa board (above) as Andy examined the ‘evidence’ like a crime scene investigator. “You’ve probably got around six seams of bees filling the brood box,” he said pointing to six ‘lines’ of debris that had fallen down from the brood frames. There was a pile of wax cappings: “The bees have been eating their honey stores in this spot here…”. We also counted 19 mites had dropped onto the varroa board in a week, which is not too high.

Next we looked at Melissa’s, Chili’s and Chamomile’s varroa boards. What can you tell about life inside these hives from the boards below? I’ve marked up Pepper’s board to make it easier to spot the clues.

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Unfortunately, Melissa’s and Chili’s bees had around 30 mites dropped in a week, which might be more of a concern. There’s not much we can do about that now, but regularly monitoring varroa levels over winter may give us a better idea of what to do in spring.

Chili’s colony looks smallest and least active and Chamomile’s colony showed worrying signs of nosema (see the red ring around a spot of dysentery). Hang tight ladies, not long till spring!

We’ll put a varroa monitoring board under the hives again for one week in February.

The varroa boards are all yellow and it’s much easier to spot a red varroa mite against a yellow background. I don’t know if this is the reason that varroa boards are yellow, although I read a really interesting article on entomologist Simon Leather’s blog: Entomological classics – The Moericke (Yellow) Pan Trap. The post explains why many entomologists use yellow pan traps because the colour yellow “is highly attractive to many flying insects”. Varroa aren’t insects and don’t fly, but I found it interesting that varroa boards and pan traps are both yellow all the same.

Today the crowd disappeared even quicker than last week, Emily and I used the opportunity to clean up our kit boxes.

The apiary’s snowdrops are still peeking shyly from bright green shoots. The cold weather hasn’t quite coaxed them to unfold their pretty flowers. Instead, I’ve drawn what they might look like in a couple of weeks visited by a bee.

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A beekeeper’s notes for January

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We’re into January and it’s wild and windy. Storms urge on the rain and frosts strengthen the cold. On some days the sky is covered in a grey blanket and on other days it is crystal blue.

At the apiary the green netting that separates the bees from the communal area had almost fallen down. The shape of hives seen through a veil of hazy sunshine was enchanting, but there was tea and a panna cotta cake on the table.

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I love spending a Saturday afternoon at Ealing apiary. It is like a pocketful of country life with beekeepers sharing stories about winter bees and swopping homemade recipes for jams and, in particular, marmalades.

Elsa was going to Greenford market to forage for Seville oranges and she got a good tip from John on using up frames of crystallised honey: “It’s all good for marmalade”.

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John Chapple looking cosy in a Christmas pudding hat and a tea-filled Tigger mug.

But the shorter daylight hours in January means beekeepers have less time to stand around and chat, and those beguiling bees were waiting for us, behind the curtain in the fading sun.

Beekeepers have few tasks for January but they are important. First, we unwrapped the chicken wire from the hives and checked under the roofs. Emily and I had put on a second block of fondant on each hive two weeks ago. Melissa’s and Pepper’s bees had made a hole in theirs, but Chili’s and Chamomile’s bees were slower eaters. The heat coming off the crownboards was remarkable and reassuring. We could see and feel that our bees are warm and well-fed.

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Melissa’s bees have eaten their way through to the second block of fondant, although the hive is still heavy with honey stores. I suspect that they just like nibbling icing sugar!

I hefted the weight of each hive and put in a varroa board to monitor for levels of mite infestation next week, and Emily checked the entrances were clear of debris and dead bodies. Entrances sometimes get blocked and make it difficult for bees to come and go on cleansing flights or pollen-collecting.

That done, we wrapped up the hives in chicken wire again to prevent hungry woodpeckers from pecking at the wood. I’m sure any local woodpeckers have easier treats to find than tasty bee colonies in this mild winter, but better to be safe than sorry.

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While the wintry weather is setting in, the snowdrops on the ground and the green buds in the trees whisper that spring is fast approaching.

The next few weekends will be about clearing out and mending old hive boxes, making up new frames, cleaning kit and getting fresh record cards for the year’s work ahead. I suspect the bees will be coming out of winter soon.

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My insect reflection

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The frost arrived as silently as the dew on a crisp and cheery morning in December. I grabbed my camera and raced outside, struck by the simple beauty of sparkling crystals of ice on earth, grass and leaves.

Winter is a surprising season for photography. The sun is low in the sky, the light is soft, and the colours and textures subtly blended. But my eyes were drawn that day to a hidden world of star-like beauty and wonder.

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Frost is dazzling in macro. A million little crystals of glittering frozen icicles on mosses and grass. I got out the extension tube to fix to my standard kit lens and zoom in closer, with elbows rested on knees for a make-do tripod. My shoestring macro method worked. Look, nature is magical even in a patch of scrub growing next to a concrete car park.

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For me spending time in nature can help to bring a positive perspective. There are amazing things to be seen from the smallest to the largest objects in the universe. How do you compare the spectacular rings of icy water droplets swirling around a gas giant planet to the simple crystallisation of water on a frosted flower?

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The sharp delicate flakes shone like stars. I can understand the frosty glow must be a lure to the light-receiving ocelli eyes of a bee as she peeks out of the hive and sees the ground glistening on a winter’s day.

I’ve heard it said that each sugar crystal of honey too is as unique as a snowflake.

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Getting into macro photography lets me imagine the world through the eyes of the smallest creatures. How differently does life appear to a bug in all its wonderfully infinite and diverse combinations? In their tiny environments do they see nature more widely than we can?

I hope 2015 brings more time to notice the simplicity and beauty in the world around us.

A Christmas letter

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Once again Christmas in Hereford was a magical experience. We arrived from London in time for the candlelit carol service on Christmas Eve. A starry sky and glowing barns lit up the muddy foot path to Amberley Church. We sang as the cows grazed contentedly outside and the fairy lights twinkled inside.

Christmas Day was another beautiful day of bright sunshine and blue skies. It was bitterly cold but that didn’t matter with a log fire roaring in the living room. After dinner, we watched The Queen’s Garden on ITV, presented by Alan Titchmarsh, for an appearance by John Chapple, Queen’s Beekeeper and Ealing member.

A bee on the thumb of Royal Beekeeper John Chapple, taken at London Beekeepers Bee Health Day.

A bee on the thumb of Royal Beekeeper John Chapple, taken at London Beekeepers Bee Health Day.

Alan Titchmarsh spoke to John about keeping the royal bees as he helped to harvest honey from the hives. “Nectar of the gods,” said John, scoring honeycomb with his hive tool. Alan described the taste of the honey as like “dessert wine” and asked what made it so good. John explained that there’s a large variety of trees and plants in the royal gardens at Buckingham Palace, which gives the honey a unique flavour: “If it’s in here, the bees will find it, and we’re tasting it”.

The honey is used in the Queen’s kitchen and she has even given some to the Pope. John must be very proud. It was a pleasure to watch him talk about the bees on TV just as he does at Ealing apiary. Andy Pedley was also there on the day of filming and is John’s Assistant Royal Beekeeper. (Thomas Bickerdike says you can hear John tell Andy to put the queen back in the hive!)

If you missed the Royal Beekeeper on Christmas Day, The Queen’s Garden episode 1 is available to watch here for the next 30 days. My work is just round the corner from Buckingham Palace and I enjoyed watching the hidden treasures of its gardens.

John Chapple is well-known authority on beekeeping and he gave our new queens the thumbs up.

Here’s John Chapple inspecting our bees at Ealing apiary with beekeeper Rosemary watching.

It rained on New Year’s Day washing the world clean outside my window. The first Saturday back at the apiary I had a cold and it was drizzling, but that didn’t dampen my spirits or those of the beekeepers chatting over tea and a table of Christmas leftovers. I was also wearing my new Joules bee wellies, a Christmas gift from my boyfriend John’s mum, which were much admired by the women beekeepers.

Jonesy and Albert were giving their bees oxalic acid. “You’ve already poisoned your bees, I hear,” grinned Thomas. “Yes” I said, “But they are on a January detox.”

Emily and I checked the varroa boards under our hives to find varying results of mite drop. Still it is good to see mites on the board rather than in the hives. It has been an unusual winter, the bees haven’t slowed down much and already I saw signs of buds and blossom in the bracken. Here are more Ealing beekeepers at work on the first cold rainy Saturday of January.

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There was more to tell of this afternoon’s beekeeping, but I’ll leave those stories of craft and sneaky bees to Thomas and Emily to reveal on their blogs.

I had brought new fondant for the bees, who had mostly munched their way through the first block. The warmer autumn might have meant that they had used their winter honey stores more quickly.

We followed John’s tip of cutting a hole in the middle of the old block and the new block, then carefully placing the new fondant on top for the bees to crawl through. This helps to avoid squashing the bees by removing the old fondant and putting on new fondant.

Our four hives are doing very well this winter and I am hopeful that they will be strong in spring. John has said, wryly on occasion, women make the best beekeepers because we are gentle and patient with the bees, although I learned that from him. He also attributes our good fortune at Ealing apiary to witchcraft! I’ll leave you to decide which is true…

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In more good news, another Ealing beekeeper is blogging – the inspiring Matwinder Randhawa tells us about her travels in Postcards from San Francisco. Do join her “journey of unbelievable adventure and beauty” in 2015.

A new chapter begins

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My first venture into the world of bees began before I was even born. At seven months pregnant, my mum remembers on a hot sunny day a beautiful big fat bumble bee landed on her bump. It sat there comfortably then started to crawl slowly up, before my mum asked a young man walking past to shoo the bee away.

After I was born, my mum took me out in the pram to lap up the sunshine of my first summer. She strolled along Oldfield Lane South, in Greenford, near to where Litton Local Nature Reserve is situated today. A small dark cloud appeared and a swarm of honeybees flew over my pram as I slept.

Our family moved around London over the years, but on a winter’s evening I found myself, now an adult, walking up Oldfield Lane South to Litton Local Nature Reserve to start an introduction to beekeeping course at Ealing and District Beekeepers. How funny that I was here again, where it had all begun, about to begin a chapter as a beekeeper.

That was six years ago. From my first hive bought from Ealing beekeeper Ian Allkins to the four colonies I now share with Emily Scott, keeping bees has opened up a treasure trove of discovery and adventure. Each year as the wheel has turned through the seasons, the secret life of bees has been revealed from spring to summer to autumn to winter to spring…

Today is New Year’s Day. In a matter of weeks the hives will be flying and the dance of the bees will bring the earth back to life as trees blossom and flowers open.

This year will bring exciting new possibilities and I can’t wait to start an all new chapter. My blog has changed as my life has changed, which is a good thing. Alongside those changes, I’m looking forward to rediscovering pastimes of drawing, painting, photography and aromatherapy, as well as writing about bees. I made a start today getting out my pencils and paper to practise drawing honeybees and comb before painting the hive boxes for spring.

Every season is full of promise and 2015 is going to be an exciting time. I wish you all health, happiness and a very Happy New Year!