Spinning classes...

I’m writing this, having washed myself down, from chin to toe, thus saving the keyboard from developing any further qwerty idiosyncrasies.

To be honest, it may have been more efficient to have brought in a jet spray and just stood in the middle of the kitchen, while some kind child blatted me, the counters, walls, floor and the few brave wasps that insisted on hanging around, such was the demographic of stickiness.

But I really didn’t care. The whole palaver was genuinely bloody fabulous. Heating a bread knife on the Aga hot plate…the smell of singed wax as I shallowly sliced the capping from the comb…the tsunami of perfume as the honey unfolded itself from the cells … mallow, gorse and clover…

I carefully placed the uncapped frames in the mechanical honey extractor I’d hired, and turned the handle. Momentum gathered and honey began to fly from the outer cells. The honey extractor, a big tub, began to shudder and attempt an enthusiastic twerk across my kitchen floor. I braced it against a cupboard with my knees and cranked up the speed, entranced by the flickering little arcs of amber sweetness as they hit the tub wall and began a slow descent to pool at the bottom. Wow. Miraculous.

Stickiness didn’t really arrive until I needed to filter this honey. I found that by using a children’s high chair (a Tripp Trapp in case you’re planning to have a go) I could position the spinner on top and place the tub with sieve below with ‘just’ enough overlap to avoid floor puddles. This worked…ish until I needed to get the last bits out.  I found myself clasping the tilted extractor between my knees, and with a spatular I reached through the internal workings to the persistent little puddle at the bottom. I got the last of the honey!

I also got honey all over me… my hands, wrists, elbows, arms, neck, chin, hair, and smile.

I’ve now potted up this small but precious treasure.

My family are in raptures. I am in AWE.

This has been the most incredible micro adventure I’ve ever embarked on. I have a slow but persistently growing sense of responsibility that has begun to bloom way beyond my family to the greater environ. I’m not an eco-evangalist or hardwired to stand on a crate at Speaker’s Corner on a Sunday! But having watched these incredible animals as they go about their united efforts to survive and prosper I can’t help but see the parallel. We could learn a lot. We could help a lot. We’ve all read the story, you know, the one about “if the bees go, so do we” but it’s more than that. I’m not suggesting we should all become advocates of a communistic way of life. But it’s certainly something extraordinary and quite humbling to see a healthy bee turn around on it’s door step and head back to an exhausted forager, to touch, caress and support it as it endeavours to make it up the ramp to their door.

The hive is now winding down for Winter. The queen’s slowed down her egg production. The whole super organism has set about conserving energy, building and saving stores and guard bees wait at the narrowed door, spiked bottoms waggling at potential wasp intruders who would wipe out an entire winter store in a heartbeat.

Meanwhile, I’ve placed our honey on a shelf in the food cupboard… little glass jars of sunshine for Winter’s grey. Feeling grateful.