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!
Letting go
8 years ago
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