The Bright Side

A forlorn sight; the empty concrete slabs where there should be beehives. We have had the empty hives standing there since we sterilised them in the spring - on the vague basis that the UV in sunlight is itself a disinfectant. Empty hives were slightly mournful, but I still felt they defined the place as an apiary. I've moved everything into the shed to avoid the winter weather. Without the warmth of the bees drying out the wood, I think it would be vulnerable. Sorry to the spiders, woodlice, colony of tiny beetles, earwigs, slug and rather alarming centipede that all thought they had found the perfect place to over-winter

There are a few reasons for good cheer even now, though. We have been nurturing the little oak tree on the left for some years now. It is, we assume, the progeny of the large stag oak that is out of shot to the right, on which a buzzard sat on the highest bare prong, watching me as I hauled boxes too and fro. The old oak is hollow and one day will fall, but they can live for decades like that - I may never see it topple.  If we can keep this young one going, it is heart-warming to think it will be there to step forward when the time comes

The gap in the distance is actually an overgrown gateway to the neighbour's field, where he grew bee-friendly phacelia this year. Who knows what might appear next year, and I wonder if we will be able to get a colony down here in time to exploit it. It's exciting to dream of spring

The soil beneath the grass is waterlogged already - as I discovered when I drove over it rather to blithely, and found my wheels spinning. Luckily, I had just enough momentum to get myself out of trouble - so there's a reason to be cheerful