I took the day off work on Friday to visit the National Honey Show. I'm glad I did because these three days seem to have calmed my soul a bit; I've been able to do things at leisure, spend time at home and with friends without that sense of frantic rush that follows me everywhere at work.
The Show was grand. I had submitted an entry into the Photo Category but didn't win anything. I don't mind; it was a first attempt and I learned, from visiting, what I'm up against for next year. Viewing the honey classes was awe-inspiring, because the competition was fierce and there was just so much stunning looking honey. There were over 50 entries in the Light colour honey alone. In the Middlesex classes, Enfield did well - I am so glad! And it was fascinating to finally see and understand the Ling Heather Honey - considered the absolute epitome of best honey by all beekeepers in Britain. It looks thick, and loaded with particulate - which is actually air bubbles trapped in the honey as it takes on its unique jelly-like consistency. Lovely stuff!
I spent hours simply scrutinising jars of honey; some so light and clear and colourless they took on an almost pale green glow; others dark and black and juicy looking; ling heather like toffee. Oh, honey is an absorbing topic!
Then I meandered on to the Trade Hall, where I was immediately sucked into buying some useful-looking tiny jars, browsing through books, fascinated by the new plastic hive innovations, and meeting fellow beekeepers, some of them fellow South Africans too.
Of course, I went home afterwards and immediately rushed into my bee suit and down to the hive. My bees look so happy. I have kept them down to three frames, between two wooden dummy boards to keep the size small for winter. Then the rest of the standard brood box I've filled with slabs of insulating wood on either side. The entrance will be confined to a mouse guard soon, the varroa board floor will go in intermittently as I keep checking through winter for varroa mite levels, and the crownboard is sealed with a porter escape and the second hole is now covered over with a pack of thick candy - the start of the feeding regime I will keep up throughout the winter to see them through.
Of course there are worries. There always are, aren't there?! Should I keep the porter escape in? Or leave it off for ventilation? I don't know; I guess I'll do what I always do, follow my instinct, muddle through and hope for the best.
Because it was warm enough, I opened the box up for 5 minutes, sans smoker, and checked the comb. Yes, the Queen is still there. That dab of white paint is exceptionally useful!
Then, having made sure they have a new crownboard, I placed the new, deeper roof on top. Because I have a feeder on top of the crownboard, the old roof didn't reach far down enough to cover the crownboard from the effects of the outside weather, so the edges were damp. The dreaded damp! Wetness, not the cold, kills bees in winter. Even the right sort of insulation is an issue here, because bees keep it warm within, thus creating condensation - and wetness. I've found that heavy outer insulation, such as thinsulate or similar, is worthy but probably not wise, because I suspect it increases the level of condensation within. So extra wood lining inside the walls is the new tack, for my little nuc-within-a-hive-box.
I have developed the beekeeper's dread of being fleeced while buying things for the hive, and a deepsided rooftop to buy is quite expensive, so Guy helped me convert one of my standard ones into a deepsided one. This new roof has now gone on, and it covers the crownboard safely, so it won't get wet anymore. I am pleased - thank you, Guy!
I stopped off this morning, with my little cat Phoebe (who is recovering from a severely bitten foot - That Bloody Stray!), and we watched the bees for a while.
They are happy.
And so am I.
The Show was grand. I had submitted an entry into the Photo Category but didn't win anything. I don't mind; it was a first attempt and I learned, from visiting, what I'm up against for next year. Viewing the honey classes was awe-inspiring, because the competition was fierce and there was just so much stunning looking honey. There were over 50 entries in the Light colour honey alone. In the Middlesex classes, Enfield did well - I am so glad! And it was fascinating to finally see and understand the Ling Heather Honey - considered the absolute epitome of best honey by all beekeepers in Britain. It looks thick, and loaded with particulate - which is actually air bubbles trapped in the honey as it takes on its unique jelly-like consistency. Lovely stuff!
I spent hours simply scrutinising jars of honey; some so light and clear and colourless they took on an almost pale green glow; others dark and black and juicy looking; ling heather like toffee. Oh, honey is an absorbing topic!
Then I meandered on to the Trade Hall, where I was immediately sucked into buying some useful-looking tiny jars, browsing through books, fascinated by the new plastic hive innovations, and meeting fellow beekeepers, some of them fellow South Africans too.
Of course, I went home afterwards and immediately rushed into my bee suit and down to the hive. My bees look so happy. I have kept them down to three frames, between two wooden dummy boards to keep the size small for winter. Then the rest of the standard brood box I've filled with slabs of insulating wood on either side. The entrance will be confined to a mouse guard soon, the varroa board floor will go in intermittently as I keep checking through winter for varroa mite levels, and the crownboard is sealed with a porter escape and the second hole is now covered over with a pack of thick candy - the start of the feeding regime I will keep up throughout the winter to see them through.
Of course there are worries. There always are, aren't there?! Should I keep the porter escape in? Or leave it off for ventilation? I don't know; I guess I'll do what I always do, follow my instinct, muddle through and hope for the best.
Because it was warm enough, I opened the box up for 5 minutes, sans smoker, and checked the comb. Yes, the Queen is still there. That dab of white paint is exceptionally useful!
Then, having made sure they have a new crownboard, I placed the new, deeper roof on top. Because I have a feeder on top of the crownboard, the old roof didn't reach far down enough to cover the crownboard from the effects of the outside weather, so the edges were damp. The dreaded damp! Wetness, not the cold, kills bees in winter. Even the right sort of insulation is an issue here, because bees keep it warm within, thus creating condensation - and wetness. I've found that heavy outer insulation, such as thinsulate or similar, is worthy but probably not wise, because I suspect it increases the level of condensation within. So extra wood lining inside the walls is the new tack, for my little nuc-within-a-hive-box.
I have developed the beekeeper's dread of being fleeced while buying things for the hive, and a deepsided rooftop to buy is quite expensive, so Guy helped me convert one of my standard ones into a deepsided one. This new roof has now gone on, and it covers the crownboard safely, so it won't get wet anymore. I am pleased - thank you, Guy!
I stopped off this morning, with my little cat Phoebe (who is recovering from a severely bitten foot - That Bloody Stray!), and we watched the bees for a while.
They are happy.
And so am I.
