Spring Mystery

The last time I opened the roof - it must've been in February - when it was really cold and wet, I put some food in for the bees.  They were still there, although very quiet.  More disturbing was the state of the ceiling.  The crown board was wet, soaking wet in parts.  I closed it down and pondered why, but chose not to do anything about it because the bees had looked just fine.  Up to yesterday, the weather had been poor.  I never want to disturb bees too much in the cold weather so they have remained untouched.

The spring mystery is always, "have they survived, or haven't they?  What condition will they be in?"  And I fretted all the way through January and February, wondering how they were.  There has been a lot to distract me; a three-week holiday in Africa, followed by eye surgery and two weeks' sick leave.  The Uni course has been thoroughly enjoyable and a complete distraction.  Work has been dire and I suspect I am going to be made redundant, which is a worry.

So yesterday we went for a hike and afterwards the group came back to our house for dinner.  Guy and I haven't had friends around in over a year.  Yes, we have been hermits.  It has just been a hard year.  But yesterday we got home from the hike, and it was warm.  So warm that I simply abandoned the cooking, abandoned our guests, abandoned everything else, and hot-footed it down to the hive with that sense of urgency that comes when you never know if it's going to rain again  - in the next minute, the next hour or the next week.

My friends are good to me - they understood.

I spent about 20 minutes trying to light That Blasted Smoker before giving up.  200 matches later, one lighter and a whole lot of extremely cold and damp paper and wood; what a mess!

I covered myself up, picked up a spare crownboard, and just went in unaided.

The upper side of the crownboard looked a real mess.  Lots of little creatures running about.  Damp.  Mouldy.  Bit of food all over.  One bee.

Oh dear.

I removed all the food and lifted the lid timidly.

And my heart just leapt with joy.  Thousands of bees.  Thousands upon thousands of bees.  In fact, I'm now terrified - in the opposite direction, if you see what I mean.  They look too full - already - in a brood and a half box!

Now I'm worried they're bursting out, run out of space and ready to swarm.

Oh dear. :)

So I exchanged rooves - now I have the poly one on, so I can see down into the hive.  Removed the gunky old one, which kind of reminded me of the interior of our house after a long winterbound sojourn.  Tidied up the old bits of food and sorted out the new.  And just gently put the lid back.  I didn't want to keep things open too long as it's still not that warm, and I have seen the sadness that is Chilled Brood.

Then I noticed under the hive that a whole lot of honeycomb cappings had drifted down onto the ground in a shower of shavings.  So the bees are there; they've uncapped and eaten their honey and the cells are free for Her new brood.  They are there; they have survived, and - gods willing - I will have bees for the summer.

Now I need to start planning a Split.  One hive into two.  Soon as possible, methinks.

Bees make me happy.  Looking at bees, checking on bees, hammering boxes for bees, pondering on bees, wondering about bee secrets.  Bee mysteries.  They just make me happy.

Hooray for bees!