Saturday 8th May 2009

The past few days have been extremely wet, and yesterday was torrential rain. This morning there are still heavy showers, so I wonder if the apiary visit will be on. As instructed by Al, I phone the beekeeper, N, at 9.30 am. He is hopeful that the rain will clear in time to have a look at a couple of hives, and I should come along for 1 pm. He gives me directions to the apiary, but - this is my ancestral land - didn't my Great, great great Grandfather die falling from a haycart in 1840 in those fields?
I head off in pouring rain, looking hopefully at the north eastern sky. I miss the turning and find myself heading down a narrow steep road - the wrong way. i have to drive for a couple of miles before I can safely turn round and head back up to the junction. As I finally arrive, 10 minutes late, I meet N and his wife as they are driving down the track from the apiary. Rain has stopped play today, so he has had to cancel. The bees do not like rain, and would be very unhappy if we took their roof off today. I am not surprised by this and begin to drive off, but I am stopped by the waft of wild garlic coming in through the open car window. I am surrounded by masses of it. I park and spend some time foraging for wild garlic (or ramsons as they are also called), getting very wet, but feeling extremely virtuous. I stash my booty in a carrier bag and head home to make wild garlic pesto and wild garlic oil and wild garlic soup and wild garlic bread and .....somebody stop me!

Thursday 7th May 2009

A parcel of books arrives from the well known online book retailer. Feeling that I wanted to read lots about bees, I had perused the searchable catalogue for bee books. Several years ago I bought Ted Hooper's Guide to Bees and Honey and now I had some basic knowledge, I find the book less scary and overwhelming. I feel that i want to read around the subject though, get a feel on the more spiritual aspects of beekeeping, rather than straight how to texts. My parcel today consists of The queen must die, by William Longgood,and, because once I added this to my basket, further recommendations popped up, so I was unable to resist The Shamanic Way of the Bee, by Simon Buxton. To balance that out I also opted for a light novel - The secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.
James is very grumpy all afternoon and just really wants to nurse a lot, so I pick up the novel. It is a very easy and enjoyable enough read, but I get the feeling I am reading a screenplay. I sit up late to finish the book as I am impatient to start on the others. I notice that each chapter in the Secret Life, begins with a quote from another bee text. Many of the chapters contain quotes from the William Longgood book - The Queen Must Die. I will begin this book next.

Monday 4th May 2009

Most of this evening's class is taken up with discussions about our various apiary visits. Later we go on to learn about the sex life of the queen. Although she normally has only one nuptial flight, she can mate with up to 10 or 12 drones on this single journey. The act of copulation is tantamount to suicide for each drone, as instead of neatly tucking his apparatus back in his trousers, at the end his genitals are ruptured and he falls to the ground, leaving them dangling from the queen. The next drone to catch up with her does not see this as a warning to his own well being - he simply removes the ruptured debris, and has his own wicked way, and so on. The queen stores all this sperm in a special organ called the spermatheca and returns triumphant to the hive with her last suitor's genitalia hanging from her, like the proof of a blood stained sheet, to be lovingly cleaned and cared for by her attendants. (Well, I do like a bit of drama). She then begins her life's work of laying up to 2000 eggs a day, and secreting "queen substance" - the pheromone which keeps the colony working together, and prevents the workers from bringing on more queens.
I ponder over this fact. Who controls the colony? The workers can, in theory, turn any egg which the queen has laid into a potential new queen. The Queen must produce enough of this pheromone to keep the workers happy, so they will not supersede her. A sort of 'bread and circuses' policy on her part, but the workers seem to know the colony will not survive without an effective queen, so is it a win-win situation? True co-operation even? I have too much to learn before I can possibly begin to imagine the machinations of a bee colony.
As we finish, we are given our next apiary visit details. I will be going to the apiary of N, the association chairman. His bees are kept on the edge of land belonging to the nearby agricultural college - land which my ancestors used to work, so I am looking forward to that.

Sunday 3rd May 2009

I am still on a bit of a high from yesterday's visit. I have expounded at length on the wonders of bees, and the absolute need to keep them to poor husband, who fortunately is still on good terms with his daughter. From the kitchen window I spy my neighbours out in their garden. They are so far unaware of my desire to have an apiary close to our boundary wall, so I grab the chance.
Me: "Morning, lovely day"
Mr and Mrs M: "Hi - yes it is"
Me: "Erm - can I run something past you?"
Mrs M (guardedly): "Go on then" raises eyebrows at husband
Me: "Well, erm, I've been going on a beekeeping course..."
Mrs M interjects: "So are you getting a hive?"
Me: "Well, I would like to, but I thought i should speak to you first"
Mrs M: "Oh no carry on - as long as the bees don't sting me"
Mr M: "I love honey, so yes on you go"
I am gobsmacked to say the least. :-)

Saturday 2nd May 2009

I awake early after another anxiety ridden dream in which I arrive at the apiary visit to find that I have forgotten to bring B and C's bee suits. I spend the rest of the visit avoiding them, which is easy because most of the day is spend watching a film in an enormous cinema. I then notice John down in the foyer, with James. He was supposed to have been visiting his daughter, so I am surprised to see them there. I rush down and tell him that he has to go straight home for the suits. He says that he has had an argument with his daughter, I ask if it was a bad one, and he says she was venomous. Golly - I guess I am more nervous than I thought! My step-daughter is the loveliest person you could meet, and doesn't have an ounce of venom in her body, so it's a bit unfair of my subconscious to do that to her.
Anyway - I rush out, still in jammies and put the box of suits and gloves into the car, just in case. John and James are, in fact, going to visit step-daughter, who lives in town with her family, and are dropping me off at the university on the way.
The weather is glorious, and the setting, on the leafy outskirts of Edinburgh is beautiful. We drive around the campus a bit, looking for the apiary and then spot a couple of space suited figures. Guessing that they could either be from the astrophysics department, or beekeepers, we head in that direction. Good guess - I recognise everyone, and find B waiting for her suit - C arrives a few moment later, and we all climb, giggling into our outfits, wondering if it should be wellies in or out of the trouser legs. Big Al, who knows all these things reckons on inside.
As we approach the apiary we have to pass inspection by F, who is required by all those university health and safety protocols to ensure the safety of all visitors. Then it begins. We are split into 2 groups, F leading ours, and the first task is lighting the smoker - a very important part of beekeeping equipment. F uses a few sheets from The Scotsman and a handful of wood shavings. The point is to get plenty of cool smoke - you don't want to torch your bees, but at the same time, you don't want your smoker to go out when you have the hive in pieces. The smoke makes the bees think their hive is threatened by fire, so they fill up on honey, and this makes them feel good and a bit drowsy, so they are less likely to sting. I wonder why it makes them drowsy - if I thought my house was burning, I don't think I would feel relaxed about it!
Anyway, my adrenalin rises as F hands me the smoker, with the instructions to keep pumping it every 15 seconds or so to stop it going out. I am almost overwhelmed by the responsibility, and have to hurry to catch up with the group as they head for a hive, squeezing assiduously as I go.
The main object of today's session is to see how to open a hive and to get to handle the frames. F is very good at explaining what she is doing while working and soon we are all gasping in wonder as she holds up a brood frame, pointing out pollen, honey capped and uncapped brood, and we crowd round to find the queen, marked with a green dot. The mysterious inner workings of a bee colony revealed, and suddenly, all I have learned so far begins to make sense.
I am not sure if it is because I impressed her by keeping the smoker alight so well, but F turns to me and says -" Do you want to take the next one out?" Nervously I take the hive tool - another indespensable item - and gingerly lift out the frame indicated. I feel clumsy in the gloves, but as hold the frame up and look at it, I feel a sense of calm. It is not as frantic as I expected, and it feels such a mindful and serene experience. The beekeeper has to be calm, measured and purposeful when handling the bees and show them utmost respect. Zen and the art of beekeeping. Of course, in this climate it is good to be quick as well as mindful, and the bees begin to headbutt us in protest, so we close up the hive. We walk away, brushing stray bees from each other, still amazed by what we have seen. Bees can sting you in more than one way!

Friday 1st May 2009

Mayday morn, and Al phones to say he will drop the beesuits off on his way into town. I have already arranged to take elder son to buy shoes, after discovering him walking around with a hole worn completely through the sole! I ask Al to leave the box in the garage, but he is not keen. We agree instead that I will pick them up at around 6 pm.
After tea, John, James and I drive down to Al's house which is around 3 miles away meandering over the winding roads to Falkirk. It is located in a former industrial Lord's country estate, and Al refers to his house as 'The Coo Shed' We find it easily enough, the 2 white WBC beehives in the garden being the main clue. Al answers the door, and we enthuse about the setting and the decorative inlaid slate on the rendering of the house. He invites us in for a look, and the house is very small - he and his wife were downsizing, but the rooms are light filled and with a glorious outlook. We chat for a while, gleaning interesting pieces of gossip about the eccentric owner of the 'Big Hoose'. Apparently her husband was a member of a very famous folk/rock band of the 1960s. My husband is terribly impressed, as he was a fan - the things that go on in your own backyard!
When James is in bed, I try on the bee suit. It is huge. I look like an Apollo astronaut. My family laugh, but I know they are impressed. Everyone has a go at trying it on - making Darth Vader noises, Neil Armstrong quotes etc. I pose for a photograph to post on my blog later and then fold the suit up carefully and put it in the box with the others ready for the next morning.

Monday 27th April 2009

After a week of illness, this morning sees me feeling much better. I realise with dismay that I have not let Al know my bee suit requirements - the first practical is on Saturday! I dash off an apologetic email and he replies almost instantly, with the request to give him my order at the class.
That evening I find myself sitting with other would-be lady beekeepers. To my relief, only one of our number has ordered her suit, and I feel the beginnings of a bond. We are divided into groups for the apiary visits, and we four find ourselves in Group C. Our first visit will be to the apiary of the fabulously gothic F and her partner M, whose hives are located at the science campus of the University.
Al reminds us that we cannot go on the visit without protective beewear and we still have time to order, as long as we can pick up the suits from his house on Friday. Al lives only 3 miles from me and as my new friend would have to travel in from Edinburgh, and the Borders, I offer to collect their suits and bring them to the apiary, and this is accepted appreciatively, We are a helpful lot, us beekeepers.
We continue to learn more about bee management, including the parts of the hive and the various types available. We are given a list of things to find out about at our visits - learning outcomes as they say in education these days. The theory is interspersed with personal insights and funny stories from Al and Big Al, and again the evening passes quickly. We leave chattering like school children - excitedly calling our good byes - "See you on Saturday!"

Monday 20th April 2009

My husband drives me into Edinburgh for the cheese and wine evening. He and James spend the evening with family who live nearby. I have been to the Botanics, but only walked round the Gardens. Al has said to go to the building with the 2 flagpoles, and I am surprised at the grandeur of the place. It does make me think of intrepid Victorian botanists combing the hills of China or Nepal for exotic plant species destined to become specimens in the glasshouses of the rich.
A receptionist directs me to the Lecture Theatre, and I walk through what seems like a mile of polished wooden panelled corridors. The theatre is a traditional tiered space with a wide desk at the front. There are already a large number of people seated, so I quickly find a chair. A paper is passed around and we add our names to the list of attendees. Several small meetings seem to be taking place between various members, but soon we are being called to attention by N, the association president. I note that N is the same beekeeper who had given me Al's details at the Highland Show.
This is the last of EMBA's Winter lecture series, and is usually the time when new members attending the beginners' class are invited to a welcome evening. This year, they are serving cheese and wine, and also teas, coffees and a delicious selection of home baking. Before the socialising, however, there are a few short presentations. We are welcomed by N, and then informed by the EMBA webmaster about the association website and other Internet and bee related issues. A lady from the Scottish Beekeepers' Association tells us about that body's role in beekeeping, and then the association librarian describes the Moir Library, which is the association's priceless collection of bee literature. Two of last year's beginners then give a presentation on their beekeeping progress. We newbies gasp in surprise as a black clad Gothic figure with a mane of jet hair covering her face (F), and a rather handsome tall young chap (M) come down the stairs and stand facing us. F addresses us in an impossibly high sing song voice, telling us, with the aid of a hugely magnified computer screen, about their attempts to start an apiary and the university where they both work. We are soon roaring with laughter as she describes the health and safety protocols they had to implement as well as making the apiary accessible to organised public visiting. M provides clarification on some of the issues, but for beginners they have a huge knowledge and enthusiasm for the art.
After enlightenment, refreshments. I am engulfed in one of the friendliest bunches of people it is possible to meet. I speak to several classmates. People come up and ask if I am new and whether I have bees yet. Big Al is there with his wife, and we recognise each other. We both sat outside a hall for on Saturday mornings for several years, while our daughters' attended ballet and tap lessons. Another of last year's beginners stops to chat - he has 2 hives, but has found a mentor in one of the older keepers. And so it goes on. As I am not driving, I am persuaded by a small white wine and a slice of fruit loaf - a fine combination.
All too soon it is time to leave, and my husband and son are waiting outside in the car. As we are leaving, Al asks us to email our bee suit requirements to him and he will order them in time for our first apiary visit. We drive home and I talk all the way about the wonders of this new world.

Tuesday 31st March

I pore over the contents of my purple folder. One of the items is a catalogue for BB Wear. Apparently, as our course fee includes membership of EMBA, we will qualify for the members' discount. I ponder endlessly over this - all in one full suit? smock and trousers with integral hood? without? separate hat? White, biscuit or light grey? And the gloves - where to start?
The list of members' contact details is interesting. I am amazed at how many beekeepers live reasonably close by. Both Al, and Big Al live less than 3 miles in opposite directions from me. I feel somewhat comforted by this and head down the garden with my new knowledge, to select my site.
On my Gardening blog, I have a long rambly post about my erstwhile rose garden. I decide that it is the perfect spot for 2 hives, 1 with bees, the other empty in case they swarm. Apparently they will swarm, according to our teachers, but we can easily deal with that by a manipulation called Artificial Swarming - to be covered in a later class. Sounds a bit alarming really, but I will reserve judgement until I have had some bee handling experience. The first practical class will not be until the 2nd May, and our next theory class is, in fact, a welcome cheese and wine for all us new members at the Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh after the Easter Break. Blimey - school was never like this!

Monday 30th March

I awake uneasily after a vivid dream, which I cannot now remember. Discussing this with my husband over breakfast, I decide that the feelings raised by the dream are partly anxiety and partly excitement at moving back into the world. Since the birth of James, now over 2 years old, I have never left him for the evening. If we have gone out, he has always come with us. He is a very sociable and inquiring boy, and while I am sure he would gain a lot from the class, I judge that he will probably enjoy playing with Dad much more.
That evening, I arrive at the high school building where the course is to take place. The janitor on duty looks at me and says the single word "Beekeeping?" I nod, wondering if my rash decision to raid my daughter's bedroom and add a pair of jade coloured tights to my outfit has marked me out in some way. "Can you tell?" I ask. "Not really, there's no other classes on tonight. Down this corridor, through the double doors, turn right and follow the buzz" I wonder how many times he will use that joke.
He is right, though. The buzz is not so much bees, but the voices of many aspiring beekeepers. I enter and hand my forms and cheque to the official looking lady sitting by the door. In return she gives me a purple pocket folder containing the course notes, some other documents, a name card to put on my desk and a reporter's style notebook from the chain store Staples. The room is already busy and there are a few seats at the back. I regret forgetting to bring my glasses.
My classmates are a very mixed bunch - two or three really young looking men (although I am now at an age where anyone under 45 looks really young), a few young mums and dads, a couple of men who look as if they are of retiring age and people in their 30s, 40s and 50s. Some have bees already, most of us don't. The lady in front of me turns round and introduces herself. A lovely Welsh girl, she has travelled down from Perthshire to attend the class. We are joined by a young Spanish father. Fortunately he has only had to travel in from Edinburgh. He desperately wants to keep bees, but lives next to a primary school so... The classroom begins to fill up - extra chairs are brought in from another room. It has been a warm day, so the windows are opened. Our lecturer stands up and the class begins.
We have two theory teachers - Al, who was the organiser and author of the emails, and Big Al, who does the main teaching. Big Al has a very pleasing North East accent which somehow seems just right for talking about bees. They work well together in a sort of odd couple way - very funny but very knowledgeable. I feel in safe hands.
We begin with a PowerPoint presentation on what the course will cover and some basic information on bees and their anatomy and different types of hives. A long Q and A session yields a lot of information we beginners are keen to know. We all wonder about the same things. Where to put hives, what about the neighbours, will we get stung, what will the bees do to our pets, why are they dying, how do you control varroa, will we ever get to go on holiday again, how much time do they take up,will they swarm..... Al and Big Al answer each query patiently and comprehensively. I leave at the end of the class with a great deal more knowledge and the faintest glimmerings of a feeling that I might, just might, be able to think about possibly keeping some bees.

Wednesay 25th March 2009

My elder daughter's birthday.
An email from course organiser Al giving further details and enclosing a couple of forms for us to fill in ready for registration on Monday night. The course will run every Monday, with practicals at various apiaries on the Saturday afternoon. These will be the sessions which will determine my beekeeping future.
Due to my lack of a printer, I forward the attachments to husband John at work, and ask him nicely to print the forms off for me. Supportive as ever, he duly obliges.

Wednesday 4th March 2009

I have a place on the Edinburgh and Midlothian Beekeepers Association beginners' course! It doesn't mean that I will be getting bees.

Monday 2nd March

Another email from Al - this time informing all the aspiring beekeepers in Lothian of the course arrangements. 40 in all have applied, but they can only accomodate 34, so first come first served. Even better is the information that the theory part of the course will be held in the town 3 miles away. I feel a higher power at work here. Nothing is ever held in this backwater. I email back instantly confirming my interest.

Friday 16th January 9 pm

I receive a reply from Al about the beekeeping beginners course. He has added my name to the list of participants and will be in touch at the end of February with final dates etc. He ends "Looking forward to introducing you to the World of Beekeeping" Wow!!!! Of course this in no way means that I will be getting bees... my garden - you know?

Thursday 15th January 2009 5.30 am

Wake up early with younger son, James. He is now sleeping soundly, but I am wide awake. The day before I read about Peak oil and various scenarios of world economic collapse and the subsequent effect on our society. I lie in bed, ruminating on these thoughts, which become giants stalking across the dark room, as these things do. I decide that we will have to be more self...sufficient does not really cut it here - self reliant is really the phrase. I remember the book Self Reliance - Recipes for the New Millenium by John Yeomans, which seemed to be all about storing bottled water, dried milk and guns in a hideaway cottage in the middle of the forest, and was currently in a box of other skimmed through books in the loft. I resolve to send elder son up the ladder to fetch said book that very day. I then remember about the beekeeping course. I am struck by a sudden urgency to learn this skill - for such skills will be needed when society as we know it has disintegrated. I creep out of bed and find my purse. The scrap of paper with the email address of the beekeeping course organiser is still there, tucked away like a secret love note. I fire off an enquiry and hope there is still time.

2008

We visit the Royal Highland Show. The first stop is.... oh yes, The Bee Tent. I buy honey, soap and beeswax. There is a beekeeper who is showing visitors the inside of a hive - minus bees of course! We stop to watch and somehow find ourselves loitering around waiting for him to finish speaking to someone else. We tell him about our unsuitable garden (is there any beekeeper in Scotland who hasn't heard of this by now?). He doesn't see it as a problem. We say that we would really like to keep bees, but...... He says that there is a beginners course held in early spring, usually in West Lothian - it would be a way of finding out if bees were for us. He writes down the email address of the organiser, I tuck it into my purse.
We visit the rest of the show. By evening we have decided bees are not for us.

1999 - 2007

We move to the yellow house. After two years of dreaming, reading Seymour and other similar books, we finally have a garden large enough to grow vegetables, keep hens and generally do all the things that are now so fashionable. Bees have been discussed and dismissed. The garden, although sizeable, is long and narrow. Neighbours are in close proximity. A huge Leylandii hedge, while protecting our privacy, crowds us in and keeps us in shade until early evening. "It is not suitable for bees," we say firmly to ourselves.
Nevertheless, on one of our many evening trips to Borders bookstore in Glasgow, I buy a book - Guide to Bees and Honey by Ted Hooper. It is fascinating, but too scary to contemplate. I have decided not to get bees.
We subscribe to one of the smallholder magazines - they have a monthly feature on beekeeping. I read it avidly. "Its not for me though" I say...decisively.
We visit the Royal Highland Show at Ingliston. The first tent we come across is that of the Scottish Beekeepers Federation. We admire the honey and beeswax exhibits, have fun rolling candles, sample types of honey, marvel at the live bees in their glass case, buy jars of honey, bars of wax and soap. We talk to the beekeepers, telling them of our unsuitable garden. "Not a problem" they say. We talk some more, they give us local contact addresses. "Yes let's" we say. Later we change out minds.
The Highland Show scenario is acted out in this way for several years. In 2007, we decide, after another long conversation with a beekeeper that we will never get bees - and that is definite.