Phrase from Field: Straddling snowy white lethally electric mountain clouds and semi-tropical green staircase hill-sides, beekeepers in Savsat savor the unique light colors and rich tangy flavors of their honeys, a true child of the dramatic marriage of regional micro-climates. Read the rest of this entry
Phrase from Field: We drop from dark-with-mist mountain meadows to warm-with-sun mountain festivals, from playful valley towns with biblical legends to thunderous valleys filled with queen rearing bee-boxes, we sit and wait for hours in a room-full of villagers for the muhtar (chief) to return and give us an interview. Read the rest of this entry
Phrase from Field: Only hours before departure, chains and locks stand the test of afternoon rain, hail, and sunshine, a preview of their 1500 km journey from Turkey’s temperamental east to its temperate west. Read the rest of this entry
Phrase from Field: People with thick coats, clopping horses, slick roads, crunchy trash, and creaky houses disappear and reappear in the mountain mist, forcing us to use other, deeper senses to understand where we are and who we meet. Read the rest of this entry
There was enough time to wonder, what would have happened if I had never come. I would be sitting on my bed, my cat curled under my chin, the hum of her purr like a lawnmower for faeries. There was enough time to think about the wedding we had been driving from, why didn’t we stay to spend the night, why did we drive through the dark back to Kars? There was enough time to consider how stupid it was to be hunting honey in the middle of May, in search of the most high quality specimens to entertain the National Geographic Expedition Council for my fifteen minutes of fame (not a cliche, this was actually scheduled as a fifteen minute presentation). There was enough time to wish I hadn’t dragged in my friends and family into this epic hunt, a hunt that would change our lives.
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