The smell grew stronger and stronger. When the breeze blew, the smell of honey drifted through the yard.
But this liquid gold rolls into the buckets and into the jars and smells like Canaan and feels rich and tastes that too.
Sticky chairs and lips and legs and faces and hair. Bees flying around trying to claim back some of their honey. Rain coming down cooling the air, I watch George Wilder and Amelia and George work like pros to bring in the last. They collected seven gallons of delicious honey from our bees.