A taste of heaven
I just tasted something heavenly: honeycomb from local hives, unfiltered, unprocessed, uncooked, loaded with pollen and other natural nutrients. If pure gold had a taste, it would be the taste of that honeycomb. Over the years I've eaten plenty of honey, but never honeycomb; I've eaten raw honey, but none as sweet as that. I got it from someone running a Pike Place Market stall, and finally decided to taste it. A taste of heaven, from bees that don't spend most of their lives on the road, going from state to state to pollinate orchards and farms and truck gardens they'll only get to visit once and then never again, never getting to store up honey and bee bread they've made themselves from local flowers for the winter, never getting eat much of anything but high-fructose corn syrup, in a state of permanent jet-lag and malnutrition. These, bees are local, living here year-round, in a way of life that is best for bees -- and their honey tastes like it. A taste of heaven.