Beehive Lane

What a charming name! In fact, it is named after a house known as The Beehive at the far end from us. There were several bee keepers 10 years ago along the name, including myself, and Teddy the donkey sanctuary man. One memorable hot summer morning our bedroom window was open, and we heard a loud humming noise outside.
When I looked out it was the rather dramatic arrival of a swarm of bees, some 60000 or so!
Delightedly I donned my protective suit and coaxed Rob into his, to help gather the swarm into a skep. This is done by placing it underneath the swarm, who have helpfully hung themselves up on a nice accessible branch, giving the branch a sharp tap and voila! They are in the basket.
As long as the queen has fallen in with them, any strays will fly in too.
When they are all in, the real magic happens.
Turn the basket upside down onto a plank leading up to their new hive and first a few will run up the slope, then more and more. You may well spot the queen as she is escorted into her home, and the rest of the swarm will follow.
And there you are. If it is early summer and the weather is kind, you will be in for a bumper crop of honey, although of course someone else has lost the main part of one of their hives.
That was some years ago. A series of disastrously wet summers and the onslaught of bee diseases has caused the loss of most Cumbrian honeybee colonies, but I still keep a hive in the garden just in case.
That happy memory was triggered by a sunny interlude this afternoon when a walk with the dogs made me feel optimistic that Spring was on the way!