Teddy stepped up to blindfold me in turn, and the proximity made me hold my breath, though she was efficient and professional about it.Nothinglike the hair-braiding at the cheese festival, or the now-infamous tea-sucking incident.Iheard the scrape of glass on plastic as she shuffled the bottles and jars, and the shuffle of the wooden sample spoons in their box.Withthe blindfold on,Icould hear so much more, too, like the tractor on the next farm over;Ihoped it wouldn’t be audible in the video.Icould smell the sweetness of the honey in front of me, and the pleasant beehive smell thatI’dcome to love– a mix of beeswax and resin and something earthier.
“Ready,”Teddysaid, andIstepped forward to whereIknew the first sample should be.Iworried for a moment thatTeddywould be messing with me by moving them around to new positions, but my fingers found the spoon straight away.
The first honey was delicate.Itwas unmistakably floral, with the slightest fruitiness to it.Itwas probably the easiest one to identify, belonging to theHoneyRainmead, the lemon balm from the farm’s herb garden clearly present in the flavour profile.Ivoiced my guess, then moved on to the next one.
This second one was far more complex.Itwasn’t actually the most pleasant to eat directly from the jar, andIwouldn’t be drizzling it on my porridge anytime soon.Butthere was no mistaking the goldenrod flavour of the autumn varietal, andIknew from experience that it made the most delicious mead.
“This is the metheglin,”Isaid. “Henford.Myfavourite.”
Next up was oneIcouldn’t immediately put my finger on.It, too, was delicate and floral like the first one, but with a smoother taste– almost vanilla-like.Ithad virtually no aftertaste at all, making it hard to judge.Ipanicked for a moment, but thenIdecided to move on to the next sample, hoping it would add some clarity.
The next one, unhelpfully, was very similar.It, too, was smooth and floral, and whilst this one had more of an aftertaste, it was hard to tell the difference in the tasting notes between it and the one before.Ithought about the meadsIhadn’t guessed yet, and there were two thatIwas pretty sure used similar-tasting honeys, even though the meads themselves were quite different.Theywere also the onesJenandTeddyhad gotten mixed up.
Just to make sure,Iwent ahead and tried the last sample, and immediatelyIknewIwas right about which two were left.Thislast honey was intense and almost smoky, andIknew that, ifIlooked at it,I’dsee a dark amber colour in the jar.
“This last one is definitely theGoldenDragon,”Isaid confidently.ButthenIwas left with the other two yet again, andIstill had no idea which was which.
I went through the process of elimination in my mind.Oneof them,Iknew, would be the acacia honey, used for theNosDamead.Thefinished product had an almost chamomile taste to it, thoughIwasn’t getting that specifically from either honey.Theother would be the wildflower honey, used for the original honey mead– orGwenynenGold, as it said on the label.Thatone had slightly different floral notes in the final mead; differencesIknewI’dbe able to get instantly ifIcould just have a drink.Butthat wasn’t the game.
I deliberated for a long moment thatIknewIwould have to edit out of the video.Ithought about asking for more samples of each, but that wasn’t the game, either, soIhad to make a decision.Inthe end, it was that hint of vanilla thatIleaned into, hopingIwas right that it brought out those chamomile notes.
“I think the third one is theNosDa, and the fourth is theGwenynenGold,”Isaid, as confidently asIcould manage.
Jen andMaggieboth burst out in clapping and cheers.Ipulled the blindfold off in surprise and checked the jars for myself, almost giddy with excitement whenIrealisedI’dbeen right.
I looked up atTeddy, expecting her to be annoyed thatI’dbested her, but instead she looked … impressed, maybe?Shewas smiling, at least, her chin bobbing as she nodded her approval.Ismiled back at her, then rememberedIwas still recording and ran over to stop the video.
By the timeI’dmade sure it saved to my camera roll and turned around,Teddywas already wandering off again, andIthought about calling her back.ButIdidn’t actually need anything from her, nor didIhave anything to say.Ijust wanted to share the moment with her.
* * *
Teddy surprisedme after lunch by suggesting we have a little beekeeping lesson for some content.We’drecorded one a few weeks ago, but the audio had been bad, andI’drequested that we reshoot it.Soshe suited me up in a spare bee suit, adjusting the veil with careful precision.Justlike with the blindfold, her hands were gentle but efficient as she checked the fit, making sure no gaps would allow bees inside.Shewore only a veil herself, as she often did, tucked into the neck of herT-shirt.
“The most important thing is to move slowly and deliberately,” she said as we approached one of the hive boxes in the flower garden, near the lavender.I’dtold her off enough times that she remembered to say it directly into the camera, which was attached to the end of a small gimbal in my hand. “Beesrespond to alarm pheromones, so if you’re tense or afraid, they’ll sense it.”
“So, no chaos,”Isaid. “Gotit.”
She opened the hive with practised ease, the smoke she released calming the bees as she lifted the top cover. “Thisis a healthy colony,” she said, pointing to the organised patterns of comb. “Seehow they’ve built it out?Theway they’re moving together?”
I watched through my phone screen– mesmerised, despite having heard this lecture multiple times before– as she lifted a frame heavy with honey and developing brood.Herpassion was intense, almost to the point of being overwhelming – the way she explained how each bee had a role, how the pollination process was essential for regenerative agriculture, and how the hive was a perfect example of sustainable community.
“Here,” she said, offering me the frame. “Feelthe weight of it.”
I set the gimbal down on the stone wall to keep recording.Ourhands brushed through my gloves as she passed me the frame, andIfelt that now-too-familiar electric shock run up my arm.Teddymust have felt it, too, because she jerked back ever-so-slightly.
“Watch it,” she said, her voice gruffer than necessary. “Don’tscare them.”
“I didn’t do anything,”Isnapped back, my own voice sharp and defensive.
ButI’dseen the way her breath had caught.Theway her eyes had lingered on our joined hands for just a moment longer than necessary.Shefelt it, too, whatever this was.Itwasn’t just me.
* * *
Once we were donewith the lesson,Itucked myself into my favourite tree and ate my sandwich du jour fromPhil– pesto, tomato, and mozzarella– this time with ketchup-flavoured crisps stuffed in it.Philhad cottoned on to my crisp sandwich habit and had started curating flavours for me that best paired together.AsIfinished eating,Ipulled out my phone to check the notifications from ourWench,Pleasegroup chat, which had been going crazy whilstI’dbeen filming at the hive.
JACK
Whose idea was it to camp this soon after a huge rainstorm?
