Friday night in our apiary is all about cocktails for wasps. Quality cider. Premium Gin. And no hangover to worry about.
With the foraging season coming to a close, it’s time to make a decision: Leave the girls with their spoil, or spoil their day.
The girls had been up to more antics, but we were rewarded in fine style by hearing tooting.
Oh come on, this is getting plain ridiculous. The girls now taking to the sky most days…
Not for the first time, the girls get some sun, and stretch their wings over the garden.
If anyone other than our bees knows what our bees are doing, we’d love to know, as we’re stumped.
The price of our honey is increasing quickly, as our girls decide they want to live in a different postcode, and our lives are too full.
Our first inspection of 2022 leaves us full of hope that this year will yield a bumper crop of honey, and the girls will be settled.
We crop our first season’s honey, and enjoy the sense of fulfilment and learning that comes with this pass-time.
The first that I knew that something was “up” was a subconscious awareness of buzzing. Looking up from my Zoom call, I could see a swirling black mass of bees directly above our apiary. Shit…