The allotment has bees. I didn't mention that, did I? At the far end, in a clearing in the middle of some brambles, are four beehives. The bees belong to the Treasurer. Today I met a few more people -- the Local Couple, who spotted me and came to check me out; the Romanian, whose plot is very developed (fruit trees, a grape vine, a spectacular tomato house) and of course the Keeper of the Power Tools, which gave me access to the strimmer.
I strimmed my paths and marked my borders. In the top corner, I kept getting warning buzzes. Sharp little hiss-like hums. I took my strimmer back a few steps and looked down into the heavy tussocks. There were runs down there; rat-runs, probably. And also a surpising number of bees. Solitary bees. And bumble bees.
As long as you don't hit the nest with the strimmer, a strimmer in your hand is probably the best way to discover a bumblebee nest. I gave the bee-busy area a broad berth and declared it fallow for the season. I'll need to give it a sign, probably, but I'd forgotten my writing tools. Rookie error.
Also my hat, but I was wearing UV sheild product on a bit of a bouff and my hair kept the sun off nicely.
The strimmer's string ran out just as I was running out of steam. I killed the engine and checked it back into the shed, apologising aloud to anyone's afternoon I had been annoyingly buzzing at. The bees, certainly. Overhead a Red Kite craned down, checking me out. A crow flew by and dipped a piece of bread in one of the plumbed-in troughs, like a fable.
I lifted the weed supressor and shifted it to the next space. There was still a bit of couch grass under and I yanked out some. You never get it all. I found some chitting potatoes in the plant-pass-on zone and some beans in a dried pod on the weed suppressor. Some leftover broadbeans went in. I put down thick drills of parsnip, beetroot, radish, spinach. Easy peasy pop-up plants. Inbetween I put down wildflower, pot marigold, phacelia, drunken cottage style.
Lot of paving stones on the site. I shifted them uphill, laying them like Minecraft tiles over some more couch-grass. Ants mourned their losses. Carnivorous flies and little wasps hovered over the fresh-turned soil. A starling with a song like a car alarm sat on the fence, licking its chops. I found a fat, juicy leatherjacket, but nothing was sure enough of me yet to come down for it.
I'll bring them some treats next time.
I strimmed my paths and marked my borders. In the top corner, I kept getting warning buzzes. Sharp little hiss-like hums. I took my strimmer back a few steps and looked down into the heavy tussocks. There were runs down there; rat-runs, probably. And also a surpising number of bees. Solitary bees. And bumble bees.
As long as you don't hit the nest with the strimmer, a strimmer in your hand is probably the best way to discover a bumblebee nest. I gave the bee-busy area a broad berth and declared it fallow for the season. I'll need to give it a sign, probably, but I'd forgotten my writing tools. Rookie error.
Also my hat, but I was wearing UV sheild product on a bit of a bouff and my hair kept the sun off nicely.
The strimmer's string ran out just as I was running out of steam. I killed the engine and checked it back into the shed, apologising aloud to anyone's afternoon I had been annoyingly buzzing at. The bees, certainly. Overhead a Red Kite craned down, checking me out. A crow flew by and dipped a piece of bread in one of the plumbed-in troughs, like a fable.
I lifted the weed supressor and shifted it to the next space. There was still a bit of couch grass under and I yanked out some. You never get it all. I found some chitting potatoes in the plant-pass-on zone and some beans in a dried pod on the weed suppressor. Some leftover broadbeans went in. I put down thick drills of parsnip, beetroot, radish, spinach. Easy peasy pop-up plants. Inbetween I put down wildflower, pot marigold, phacelia, drunken cottage style.
Lot of paving stones on the site. I shifted them uphill, laying them like Minecraft tiles over some more couch-grass. Ants mourned their losses. Carnivorous flies and little wasps hovered over the fresh-turned soil. A starling with a song like a car alarm sat on the fence, licking its chops. I found a fat, juicy leatherjacket, but nothing was sure enough of me yet to come down for it.
I'll bring them some treats next time.
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