Happy Easter Mr Barnum

As we know, Easter is all about rebirth, and the eternal hope that the resurrection of Jesus Chris brought to mankind.  It's an amazing story, and one worthy of reflection, especially after such a tumultuous year for everyone on Earth.  I think this message of hope often gets lost in our modern world, both by those who seek to detract and discredit religion, and those religious people who commit great evils in its name.  But in its heart, what's not to love about the Easter message?  Surely there's something in there to inspire each and every one of us.

Rebirth is a wonderful notion, and one that gardeners know very well. It's surely no coincidence that Easter is celebrated in springtime, when this renewal of life is abundant throughout the natural world.  In our garden, spring is a time to reacquaint ourselves with old friends, and there are many - hostas are pushing their new spikes above the soil, the leaves of the asters are forming little mats, the primulas are flourishing after a long and lonely winter, and the fritillaries - always the fritillaries - are once again making their play across the bank. It's magical, inspiring stuff, and it arrives every year, right on cue, to gladden the heart beyond all measurable belief.  Surely if Jesus Christ rising from the dead is the ultimate sign of heavenly hope for mankind, then this springtime miracle offers an equal hope here on Earth. 

Of course, it's not lost on me that this spring we'll also be reacquainting ourselves with old friends of a human kind, as lockdown measures begin to ease.  So, as far as spring 2021 goes, it's an all-encompassing affair, and there's an awful lot for which we can and should be thankful.  I'm looking forward to seeing the people I like again, for the winter has been a long one, and I am ready to reconnect.

Back in the garden, I recently had cause to save a bumblebee which had fallen into our path.  The bee was covered in mites, to the extent that it could no longer fly, infested under the wings and around the thorax.  To save the bee, I got a tub of water and some thin twigs (I think a think paintbrush would work too); then with bee in hand, I slowly began to remove the mites one-by-one, dipping my twig in the water regularly to clean them off.  This process took me about half an hour, but in the end I could see that the bee was pretty much mite-free.

The bee was by this stage bedraggled, and not fancying its chances on a cold, sunless day, I took it indoors and gave it a temporary home in a little carry case that I occasionally use for my fish. I put some sugar water into an unturned bottle lid, along with some garden foliage and some kitchen roll to help it dry off, then left the container on the windowsill for maximum warmth.  We also named the bee, Bee T. Barnum.

Well fast-forward 24 hours, and Bee T. Barnum was much better, to the extent that it had begun flying around its hospital room.  This day was a sunny and warm one, and so I took Bee out into the garden, opened the lid, and let it reclaim its place in nature.  Every bee matters right now, so I was pleased to be able to help one live another day.

It remains to be seen if Bee T. Barnum returns to our garden, but I hope we'll be top of the list when it's choosing where to pollinate from now on!  And so to anybody reading this blog, I wish you a Happy Easter and a wonderful spring.