Pending

We are on the cusp of change. This slow, slow spring has crept forward. Things have flowered in their time, but everything is happening in slow motion. Blossom is lasting longer than usual, leaves are taking longer to fully open than usual, there is a sense of holding back, waiting for a signal. I feel it in myself - treating garden furniture in preparation for the summer, but doing it in a woollen jumper and heavy coat to keep warm feels absurd; I work half-heartedly

Cold temperatures are hard for bees; normally they would stay in the hive and wait for warmth to come. But they know the score, they observe the daylength, they know this will not last forever and they must be ready. They bend the rules; even the least bit of sun is enough to get them outside now, even in single-digit temperatures. They know the nearby sources, the easy runs, the low-hanging fruit; they have managed to build up stores and build up numbers

And the bees are right. Tomorrow is cold, the weekend is chilly and grey, but Monday is warm, the week gets warmer. I predict an explosion of swarming across England, as they gleefully take their chance, catching out beekeepers who have been lulled into inattention by what feels like an extension of the torpid winter season. We will try to be there at the first opportunity - trying not to fall for the sucker punch. Even then, there is no guarantee, they may slip through our fingers - they may have done so already: slipping away in one of those chilly-but-sunny afternoons when we decided it was too cold for beekeeping. At least we will know

A few warm days and the birch will be in full leaf; the last view of the tower from this angle until autumn. The apple will accelerate its blooming, eager to start swelling apples. Hurry, hurry, summer is almost here. And we will feel the same; the furniture can go under the apple tree, the coat can be hung up, do we have any white wine?