Bees take a working holiday

Four hives in the back of the car, ready for the short trip to their new home

This happens every year — spring arrives, the clocks change, and all-of-a-sudden I find myself crazy busy. Having had a week’s holiday in late March certainly helped me get on top of stuff, but the big issue this year was the realisation I need to assemble loads of bee equipment.

I was completely delighted (and extremely surprised) to find all my of my hives (four nucs and four full colonies) made it through the winter. But then I was suddenly struck with the realisation that I’m going to need lots of extra equipment — eight nuc boxes for dealing with swarms, and eight supers for all the honey.

With the clocks changing I’ve been hammering away almost every evening until it gets dark, making up dozens of frames as well as constructing nuc boxes. On top of this, there’s still digging to do at the allotment, and seeds to bring on at the greenhouse.

At one point last week, I suddenly got quite stressed with the urgency of it all — and then, just a couple of days later, things peaked and I suddenly saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Five nuc boxes had been assembled, and the greenhouse tables are covered with young seedlings. Relief!

I’ve also decided to move my bees to a more rural site to avoid the potential hassle of swarms invading local chimneys. A local farmer was generous enough to give me a spot. It’s a little windy, but there is a vast field of oilseed rape just a 100 yards or so away. It hasn’t flowered yet, but when it does, I’m confident the bees will go crazy for it.

At first I moved two nucs up, just to see how they’d fare. I was a little concerned that they might not find enough to forage, surrounded by barren fields. But they seemed to find something (there’s a village about a mile away).

So, yesterday I took another four hives. Remarkably the flit went smoothly without a single bee escaping in to the car.

So, with two more hives to go, I’m almost all set for the oilseed rape harvest.

My first glass of Muntons Oak Aged Ale. Just perfect

Two other things to quickly share. I planted my potatoes this morning. They are always the first thing to go in the ground in the spring, so it felt like a bit of an occasion.

To celebrate (and this brings me neatly to my second point), I sampled my second batch of home brew (Muntons Oak Aged Ale). I should have left it for a few more days, but I couldn’t wait. And, to be honest, I didn’t need to. It was sensational.

Incredible dark (providing you don’t do what I did and also pour in some sediment) with a nice head, it was almost chocolatey in its richness with a bitter after taste.

It was how you’d expect a beer like that to be, and to be completely honest, was as good (if not better) than anything you can buy from the supermarket.

I’ve read a lot that home brew kits have vastly improved over recent years, well, I can confirm that’s the absolute truth. There was nothing “home made” in the way this beer tasted. It was just spot-on.

(As you can probably guess, I’ve had a few bottles while writing this, so now’s probably a good time to call it a day and head for bed, a contented man.)

Orchard milestone

The plan of the orchard and wildflower meadow. The tree planting is now complete

A major milestone was reached today regarding Monifieth’s community orchard and wildflower meadow — the final trees have been planted. That means a total of 124 trees are on site. They consist  of seven pear, 20 plum, three cherry, 91 apple, and three “mystrees” (no-one knows what they are).

OK, so it may not be the most exciting photo, but it beats the seaweed I showed last week. In the foreground is Area D (late season apples), with Area I (plums) behind

Most of the trees were planted in two sessions earlier this winter, but today we tackled the final 29. The process seemed to be much speedier than expected, and the job was done in three hours.

There was one major problem though — mice had gotten into the shed where the trees were being stored, and stripped the bark from 10 of them. Strangely, they only picked apple trees, and left the plums alone. We decided to plant the damaged trees anyway, on the off-chance they might take, but some looked in particularly sorry state. We’ll replace them next winter, if need be.

The soil is particularly compacted and very sandy, so planting each tree was a considerable amount of work. A metre square of turf had to be removed, and the earth then mixed with a barrowload of soil improver.

There were six volunteers (mostly Rotarians), with a couple of people delighted to just dig holes. They were the real stars, as that was, by far, the most arduous task.

Now, we just need to wait until the spring to see if all the trees have taken, and if they start to blossom. The orchard looks mightily impressive, but when the flowers come out, it should prove quite a sight.

In other news, I planted a grapevine in my greenhouse yesterday. It is a red Dornfelder variety, and is years away from bearing fruit.

The greenhouse floor is solid concrete, so I actually planted it in the soil outside, drilled a hole in the wooden wall, and poked the growing end through. This way the roots will have all the space they need in the garden, while the stem will benefit from the heat of being inside. It’s a tested technique, so in theory it should work. Just like with the orchard, all I have to do now is wait.

 

 

In praise of weed

I was once told that, until a few decades ago, if you took a winter walk along the coastal path from Dundee to Arbroath you’d see gardens and allotments covered with a thick black  blanket of seaweed.

This was a time when artificial fertilisers hadn’t been developed. Besides, it was free way to improve your soil. Another bonus is that it is organic. Seaweed, of course, is still spread on fields in Jersey today, and it is thought that helps give the new potatoes a distinctive salty tang.

I have been using it for years on the allotment, but mostly to make a particularly stinky liquid feed. Fill a water-butt with one-third seaweed, two-thirds water, and leave to ferment for three months. The smell is so bad that I make watering my last job of the day, and then scarper, leaving grumpy fellow growers to curse and spit.

My compost heap. Two years in the making

Last year, though, I copied the Jersey farmers, and spread a thick layer on the potato bed. The resulting crop was, by far, the best ever, with around 100lb of spuds. Was the seaweed responsible? Who knows, but when you only get one shot at a crop per year, I wasn’t willing to play around with a potentially successful formula.

Today I took a ton bag down on the beach, and, attracting quite a few glances, gathered up enough to cover the potato bed. Collecting seaweed is one of my least favourite jobs, primarily because you have to drag the heavily laden bag along the beach, up a flight of steps and into the car. I hate it. But it only took me two trips this time and an hour-and-half to get it done.

Once spread over the bed, I covered the weed with a layer of my own compost. I should really sieve the stuff first, to get out the non-biodegradable bits, but I just chucked it on, leaving the bed peppered with scraps of plastic, parcel tape, polystyrene and other detritus. I’ll pick them out as I plant.

On a more general note, this is the first day of spring, and the weather was sensational. It was such a joy to be outside. The raspberry canes are starting to bud, and I saw a couple of brilliant red  rhubarb shoots just peering out of the ground.

Seemingly it is going to get warmer next weekend, and the weatherman says it will start to feel like spring. I may feed my bees to give them a strong start to the year.

One other thing before you go: I cracked open the first of my home-brew beers on Thursday. Surprisingly, it was very fine. I went easy that night, drinking only two bottles, to see if my guts agreed. They did. Janek likes the beer too, and seems to having one with just about every evening meal. Kurt also enjoyed it when he popped over for a visit, and returned to his flat with half a dozen bottles. Must make more!

 

 

 

 

Where do I begin…

The apiary in January. (The hives second and third from the right belong to another beekeeper)

Nobody told me divorce would be so time-consuming. I’ve spent the last few months chasing my tail, and I’ve had lawyers, a financial adviser and my work’s pensions dept chasing mine —  but they all been working on my behalf, and the good news is I still have my house, my kids, my car, my greenhouse, my bees and my allotment. And it’s almost all over.

Personal problems aside, so much has happened as far as the subject of this blog is concerned that I could write several thousand words bringing you up to the present.

But I won’t.

Instead, I intend to write more frequent, shorter entries — less boring to read, and less daunting to write.

OK, let’s start with the bees. 2014 was a pretty successful year. The plan in the spring was to split each of my existing three colonies into three, so that I’d end season with nine. However, I have eight. Well, to be exact, four full colonies and four nucs (half colonies). However, not all of them came from artificial swarms and splits. I caught two swarms during the season (one had settled in empty brood boxes in my garden), and lost three swarms. That makes eight.

This year I’m going to try a few new techniques to minimise swarming  — clipping one wing of each queen, “locking” her in the hive after an artificial swarm, and not giving her any brood to look after when I transfer her. I need to stop future swarms, not because of the loss of bees (that’s bad enough), but because they always seem to settle in the chimney of a nearby family who are terrified of them. It’s embarrassing and expensive.

Clipping the queens is going to be tricky. I haven’t done it before, and I’m still hopeless at spotting them. Having said that, I did manage to find unmarked queens a couple of times last year (it made my heart race), so perhaps I’ll crack it this season. If I can become consistent in spotting queens, then I reckon that could be the final step in me becoming an independent beekeeper, who doesn’t rely on others for hands-on help. That would be a great thing.

You’ll notice from the pic that not all the hives are mine. I have been joined by two other beekeepers. There are now 15 hives in total at the site, and I’m a little anxious that there won’t be enough forage come the spring. Also, what happens if that family finds another swarm in their chimney? I’ll get the blame, but it might not be my bees. And who will  pay the bill for their destruction? These problems have kinda pushed me to start thinking about another apiary site for myself. Somewhere completely in the country, where chimneys aren’t an issue.

It’s early yet to work out how many hives will survive the winter. I’d be extremely surprised if all eight make it, but if six or seven do, then I’ll try to stick to that number for this year. When it comes to the swarming season, I’ll try my hand at making up some nucs to sell.  Whereas last year, I focused on building up the number of hives, this year I’d like to make as much honey as possible. The plan is to sell it all in one go at the Flower & Food Festival come September. I need the cash. Divorces don’t come cheap ….

Tripping the Glut Fantastic!

Peas and runner beans

You are going to have to forgive me if I sound a bit pleased with myself. That’s because I am. I’m in the midst of what is by far my biggest glut – and it isn’t over yet.

Behind me in a box, as I type this, are jars of strawberry jam, raspberry jam, rhubarb and ginger jam and honey.

In the kitchen are a box of eggs, a bowl of tomatoes, a bowl of onions, three cabbages, a spindly lettuce and a food-grade plastic bucket with what I hope will eventually be sauerkraut.

The freezer in the shed has two drawers with courgettes, raspberries, spring onions, cubes of pureed basil, broad beans, runner beans, peas, and vegetable soup,

Beside the freezer are two sacks, each of which contain 28lbs of potatoes (first and second earlies), with the main crop still to come.

And, finally, next to the shed is the greenhouse, where are four racks of onions drying in the heat before I string them up.

This substantial store of food means two things — we will almost certainly be eating food I have produced daily until at least until Christmas, and I reckon this is the first time since I started the allotment, that the money I have saved has exceeded money spent. That’s not, of course, the reason why I do this, but, still, it’s a wee bonus.

 

 

The year of the bee

Goodness, has it really been three months since my last post? Doesn’t seem that long since we were emerging from winter, and already the longest day has been and gone.

Of course, I’m sure this is a common feeling among all allotmenteers. Spring and summer are the busiest times, and almost all daylight hours are spent planting, weeding, watering or harvesting.

But it is the bees that have taken up an increasingly large slab of my time this year. I am slowly making the transition from a novice beekeeper who spends all his time in crisis management, to one who is starting to feel in control of his bees. And once you get to that stage, you can start playing about with your colonies, manipulating and experimenting with them in all sorts of ways.

I began the year with three colonies, had hoped to get nine by the end, but have eight, so I’m quite pleased. I had split each of the original hives three times, but two swarms escaped (incurring the wrath of a neighbouring family whose house also became a home to some of my bees), thus leaving me with seven. However, I managed to catch a swarm from a garden  about six miles from the apiary. As you will hear in the video below, that colony had a marked queen, so it belonged to another beekeeper. (Finders keepers, is the rule here, but if I hear of someone with a missing colony, they can have it back.)

So, that makes eight colonies. Not bad. About half are fairly weak, so  my next goal is to try to build up their strength, so they are as healthy as possible as they go into winter.

Aside from losing two swarms, my main shock so far this year has been  a hive which toppled over. Check out the video.

Another major bee development is I passed my Basic Beemaster exam — with distinction! OK, so it is one of those tests that just about every beekeeper passes, but not everyone gets a distinction. It has given me further confidence that I have a good grounding in the subject. It also means, however, that I should really plough on with the rest of the modules. There are eight or nine of them, all a lot tougher, so it’ll take a good few years.

Oh, it’s become almost incidental, but I also got 38lbs of honey from two hives. That’s the thing about beekeeping — you start keeping hives to get honey, but, in the end, just become obsessed about bees.

 

This is the plan for 2014

This (in theory) is how it’s going to go

Those of you who have followed my blog (and there aren’t many) will have noticed that around this time of year I publish a plan of what I intend to do on the allotment for the coming season.

Using Suttons Garden Planner, I basically stick to a rotation, so much of it is a logical development from previous years. Here it is in full: http://tinyurl.com/vegging-plot-2014

However, there are some differences, primarily with the ever-troublesome Brassicas. For the first couple of years they were a disaster. Either crops failed to grow or they were scoffed by caterpillars. The last two years, however, were more successful, but they weren’t being eaten at all — neither by caterpillars or (more importantly) family members. I managed to grow quite a few superb cabbages in 2012, but they weren’t used, and many ended up being fed to the chickens. In 2013, I grew swedes (as requested) but when they came to harvest, Sue told me they disagreed with her!

So, for 2014, I’m going to try something different. I’ll still grow some swedes, but I’ll also try smaller amounts of cauliflower, Brussel sprouts, cabbage and broccoli, and see if any prove a hit.

There will also be changes to the onion bed. Last year, I grew half red onions and half yellow. Both were highly successful, but the red bolted and didn’t keep well at all. This seemingly is a very common problem with these onions, so, this year, I’ll grow three-quarters yellow.

I’ve also made some changes to the fruit cage. The far left hand side used to be mish-mash of different plants — blackberry, Tayberry, gooseberry, raspberry and  loganberry. Most were disappointing, except for the loganberry and the blackberry (the latter was which was absolutely sensational). So I’ve kept those two, pulled out the rest, and planted another blackberry bush. It was quite expensive, but if it produces the same ultra-sweet and juicy fruit that its partner did last year, then I’ll be delighted.

A year ago, I planted six Glen Moy raspberry bushes. They’ve taken off really well, so I’m hoping for a major harvest this year. It’s a similar situation with the rhubarb. Although planted two years ago, it is only this year I’ll be able to harvest any sticks. If all goes according to plan, 2014 should be a great year for fruit, jams and puddings.

Orchard plan finally bears fruit

East End Park — site of the orchard and wildflower meadow

I’ve always wanted some fruit trees. Some apples and maybe a few pears. There wasn’t enough room on my allotment, so I tried to get a hold of some adjacent land which would have taken about six trees. That was a failure, so I was at a dead-end.

That was over a year ago, and I’d almost given up on the idea until I bumped into Alex Graham, who is chair of Monifieth EcoForce — an environmental group which does its best to keep the town looking good. I said I was looking for some land for an orchard for myself or the community. “Leave it with me,” he said. I thought little more about until we met again several months later, and he said there was a piece of ground near the golf course which would be suitable for an orchard combined with a wildflower meadow. 

A quick visit to the site left me overwhelmed. It was huge! Roughly 50 x 100m. It was more than I ever dreamed of.

Google Maps view of the site

The more I thought about it, the more the idea of doing something for the community appealed. There was no doubting this was going to be a massive task, and so I asked Frank King, a fellow allotment holder, if he would come on board. I was delighted to hear him say yes.

Not long after he came up with a genius fundraising idea. Why don’t we allow people in Monifieth to sponsor their own family tree? Brilliant. Folk would have a tree in their name with a plaque giving their details.

Meanwhile, I got in touch with Andrew Lear, who specialises in reviving orchards in this area, particularly in the Carse. He reckoned there was room for 90 trees. And he listed the types of pear, plum and apple which were commonly grown in this area.

So far, so good. But there were two huge hurdles to overcome — getting funding and permission. Thanks to Catherine LLoyd, of Tayside Biodiversity, we applied for a grant from Angus Environmental Trust — a group which uses money from the landfill tax to promote projects like ours. They were very enthusiastic and gave us a grant to cover the cost of the trees, stakes, guards and seeds for the meadow.

The bigger problem was getting permission from the council to go ahead. Although they were behind the idea, their cogs turned extremely slowly. However, after I put in an appeal with our councillor, things started moving — still too slowly for my liking, but faster than before.

On stipulation they had was I should consult with all the owners of the neighbouring properties to get their views on the matter. Two sides of the area was owned by the golf links. I spoke to the chairman, and he was delighted that an eyesore was going to be put to proper use. Residents, however, had reservations. While the vast majority were in favour, many were concerned trees would block their views of the golf course.

This was all passed on to the council who eventually agreed at the beginning of March to lease us the site for the orchard and wildflower meadow. Nothing can stop us now. The money is in place and we have the cash.

Now the real work begins …

A second stab at winter crops

Not much to see just now, but this is where I planted the onions and cabbage. The onions are marked out with string, so I know where to weed

In  2012/13 I tried for the first time to grow winter crops.  The plot was in pretty good nick, and there was some spare time, so I thought I’d try growing winter onions, lettuce and cabbage. Get the most out of the plot, and all that.

The onions grew OK, but the lettuce and cabbages were quickly choked out by a late flush of weeds and never really showed themselves.

I reminded myself that everything I try for the first time on the plot is usually a disaster, so, this year, I thought, I’ll learn from my mistakes and have another go. This time I decided to forget about the lettuce, and plant spring cabbages from seedlings. That way they’ll be easier to weed.

The onions were planted as sets, and buried below the ground. As I knew it’d be several months before they showed themselves, I marked their location with string. That way I could weed with impunity. As I write this only one onion has shown itself. That’s to be expected. During the winter months, the onions will set down roots, and come the spring, they should pop through and grow quickly.

The leeks have been a great success again

Actually, it’s a bit of a misnomer to call them winter onions. The reality is that they’ll only end up being only about four weeks ahead of normal onions. But that’s OK by me. If I need the space come spring,  I’ll harvest them as large(-ish) spring onions. I did that last year, and they were among the first harvest of the year. Fresh veg, come April and May, is extremely welcome.

There are still other crops on the go at the plot, which aren’t strictly winter crops as they were planted in early summer, but are still maturing. They are leeks, purple sprouting broccoli and turnip. Leeks have been a great success over the past two years, and this season is no exception. Big, thick and white, they have a crunch, flavour and an oniony smell you just don’t get from the supermarket. Plus I managed to grow about 90 in half a bed. You can cram them in, and they don’t seem to mind too much.

The same can’t be said about the broccoli. I planted these in mid-summer, and they grew very fast, but there is no sign of a crop. It’s all green. Not sure where my mistake is, but the harvest season is December to March, so maybe something will show itself yet. If not, I’ll dig them up and give them to the chickens. They’ll love it.

Finally, the turnips (or should I say swedes?).  Another great success. As an experiment, I tried planting these as seedlings too. Seems to be a good idea, as they have turned out to quite substantial. Some of the shapes are bit odd (long and rounded — more like a marrow), but still edible.

It’s good to have something to harvest between now and spring, and its means my plot is producing veg for around nine or 10 months of the year. Not bad at all.

video update no. 3 2013

This post will be accompanied by few words. I seem to have most covered of what I wanted to say in the video update.

There is one further thing I want to add, though. Since filming the footage above, events have moved on regarding the quails. As I said I would, I reunited the injured bird with her siblings. However, almost immediately she started to get picked on. I watched anxiously hoping it would settle down, but within a few minutes the corner of her eye was starting to bleed. The other quails were being vicious little toe-rags. One, in particular, was not only nipping the back of her neck, but was also getting a piggy-back ride as the injured bird ran around trying to escape. I had no choice but to put her back in the pet carrier.

But things got even worse. Soon after I notice ANOTHER quail was getting viciously picked on as well! Can’t figure out what’s up with them.

I took the two bullied quail back indoors and put them in the cage that formerly housed our rats.  Soon the greenhouse will be empty of tomatoes, and I intend to put the two cages with all the quails in there over the winter while I work out what to do next.

Don’t let the quails’ cutesy size and their Tribble-like cooing fool you. They’re mean little buggers.