The butterflies dance as we dig, and in the middle distance the bee-eaters whistle their arrival from Africa. Not that our bees seem deterred. Fifty metres west of this year's almost weedless potato patch we have two hives on the go. A third lies broken, a fourth is outside the barn awaiting my attention after an infestation of moths. I must get to it this week because the bees are feasting. The meadow of wild flowers grows deeper and we are going to have to cut some paths soon, once the tractor's fuel feed problems are solved. Below the front of the house, on the terrace nearest to the road, our three apple trees are proclaiming the spring, and around the blossom bees swirl contendedly. Two years ago we had a bumper apple crop. This year could match it. Meanwhile, on the higher vegetable patch we have just planted some purple beans, testing rock dust as a means to remineralise and add nutrients to the soil. Who has caught on to rock dust? I will tell you more anon....