Kit Peel explains how some uninvited wedding guests inspired him to create a pollinator paradise at his farm.

I have vivid memories of our wedding day (read the F&F feature here): searching the dawn sky over the dale for clouds; driving to church and finding my hands shaking; Megan beaming from the other end of the aisle; the first, blessed glass of champagne; being calm for the speech then forgetting the steps of our wedding dance; and later, sitting briefly alone at a table, suddenly noticing that there were bees working amongst the flower arrangements.

Amidst the clamour of music and conversations, streams of striped gatecrashers were clambering over the willowherb, betony, foxgloves and scabious we had gathered from our fields and set in vases on each table. I was alarmed, but only for a moment. The bees were too absorbed in their task to think of stinging anyone. A friend came to talk to me, his hand disturbing the flight path of a bee as he reached for a glass. The bee calmly swerved out of the way and headed into a foxglove flower. The pink bell rang and she was gone.

After our honeymoon, we lived on the Greek island of Hydra for a year, working on writing commissions, before returning to Nidderdale. Last summer, Megan and I were having dinner in the garden of the hotel where we’d had our wedding reception. In front of the Sportsman’s Arms, a wildflower field ran down to the alders that line the river Nidd. We were reminiscing about the bees at our wedding, when Megan said: “Why don’t you become a beekeeper?”

It was as if a light went on. I don’t know how I hadn’t thought of it earlier. Our farm already had wildflower fields and abutted a heather moor. Besides, since the wedding I had developed a mild obsession about bees. We visualised painted hives, boiler suits and smokers, got drunk and walked home through the dusk.

The joy of learning about bees is how it has transformed my understanding of the dale. In six months, I have learned more about the ecosystem of Nidderdale than the past thirty seven years. Today, I see my home with new eyes. Fields, close cropped by sheep are no longer beautiful to me. I now prefer unkempt banks and hedgerows that teem with life, unlike the green deserts nearby. I have become acquainted with all the dale’s trees and wildflowers; discovering not only their names but also their medicinal properties and the folk tales attached to them.

We already have four acres of wildflower fields that I have been working with the brilliant Nidderdale AONB to help bring on. My mission is to turn the three acres in front of the farmhouse into a paradise for pollinators; selecting the most bee, butterfly and insect-friendly flora. It’s the most fascinating journey; one I probably wouldn’t have begun it were it not for our uninvited wedding guests.

That day, the bees left me the best present. I plan to repay them. Over the coming months I’ll be recording the ups and downs at my website, Blissful Bees.