My part of Glacier County was one giant ice sculpture this morning … with a dusting of powdered sugar for maximum sparkle effect.  Made me think a pack of thirteen year old girls, bedazzlers in hand, had been outside decorating.  Made me wish I had a plate of lady fingers to go with my coffee.  I settled for oranges, greek yogurt, honey, and toast instead.

This afternoon, the sun set to melting the beautiful ice sculptures, and I sat in my beeswax room and labeled a couple hundred pounds of honey.  I picked a spot in the sunshine and absently watched rivulets of water cascade off the warehome roof while I gazed upon what we didn’t get done last fall.

Such as: putting all the 55g barrels into the storage bay of the warehome.  Sigh.

But nothing mellows me faster than a little sunshine, and by the time I was through labeling honey, my thoughts had turned to the day Honeydew and I unloaded all those barrels, and then I got to thinking about all the possibilities contained within them.  They’re empty right now, buried under our not-insignificant snowpack.  But come summer, we’ll place our bees all over Glacier County, and we’ll wait to see how they’re feeling, how the weather’s feeling, how the honey crop will be.  And while we’re waiting, we’ll scrub out the barrels.  And come fall, we’ll hope to fill each one of ’em with the clearest, lightest honey you’ve ever seen.  And certainly the best you’ve never tasted.

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