Honey Eve

Two years ago today, I sent the first letter from this forest. I called it Echoes from an Old Hollow Tree, a name that seemed equal parts enchanting and rooted. Something that would feel like running your hand over a mossy stone wall in a forest that was once sheep pasture. I didn’t have a business plan or a brand strategy but I had a place and I wanted to share what was happening here: the bees, the trees, the seasons, the children. I believed, and still believe, that there is something hallowed, something holy about paying attention to the quiet things in a loud world. I believed, and still believe, that something old and vital and true lives in places like this, and if I could just write it down faithfully, it might help someone else remember what they already knew. What I didn’t expect was how much would change, or how quickly. Here we are: two years on, twelve hives in the bee yard, a coop full of happy chickens, twelve more chicks in the sunroom, fireflies blinking in the tall grass, and the solstice holding time still. It is the feeling of standing on the pier before plunging into the lake below. It is a feeling of standing on the edge of something great.