Oohh, Beehave

I have unwittingly released the bees in my front garden.

The first cut of the year has opened up the lawn surface for the return of the solitary bees. I think that they must have been waiting patiently just for me to get organised with a hired lawn mower. Perhaps loitering in a temporary refuge such as a crack in the boundary wall and, amongst themselves divvying up the best locations. In bee terms the few square metres of grass in front of my house must be sought after because every spring, for a few weeks, they take up residence under the surface to excavate their nest cells.

In the first few years of my ownership of the bee garden with a house on it I was mystified by the appearance of small mounds of finely excavated soil. These were so carefully sifted that each constituent particle was cleanly separated from the next. The mounds, only about a dozen of them were a 1 millionth scale version of Mount Vesuvius, beautifully graded slopes with miniature scree and smoothed contours. In the central peak a large regular aperture forming the sole access to what I can only imagine to be a labyrinth of corridors and chambers.

The front lawn is always very dry and parched, even in winter because of the proximity to a large and thirsty Plane tree on the roadside verge. In full canopy there is no potential for moisture to reach ground level. Ideal conditions for a safe and damp free subterranean nursery. Far from ideal to support and sustain the growth of the magnolia that we planted a few years ago.

The well documented decimation of the wider population of bees will have explained the comparative lack of attendance in recent years but numbers and vigour appear to be somewhere close to revivalist proportions. I know this from an idle couple of minutes of informal census taking.

On a warm day the activity of the bees is quite exhausting to watch. Frequent comings and goings in search of pollen. The species allowing me to live in their territory are the Tawny Mining Bees or Andrena Fulva. Their foxy red bristly bodies are unnervingly attractive . No they are not gingers!.

I soon came to welcome the arrival of the bees and whilst they are engaged in their important procreation phase and also perpetuating the viability of the human race on this planet the front lawn slowly deteriorates into a unkempt toupee.

I can appreciate that proud and diligent gardeners may feel hysteria at the micro-mining taking place but I feel honoured and humbled to host the annual event.

(First published in March 2012 but renewed with the re-emergence today, 2nd May 2013 of the solitary bees in my front lawn and also the first cut of the season)