The orange glow fills the cracks and voids of our lives with soothing stickiness. A missed opportunity? Fill it with golden goodness. A lost soul? Pour on a bit of that butter from the gods. Broken heart? This glowing elixir will affix itself to your severed chambers and have them rhythmically pounding for joy.
The sun is born anew inside a plastic container formed to a pleasant eight-ounce inverted cone with its sides mashed flat. The Sun’s power, captured by our bees and then crudely swiped from their fortress. What goes around comes around, right Mr. Sun?
“Hell, NO!” Shouts Mr. Sun. And with his power he zaps back nearly all of the stolen honey. Leaving us with a scant 4 ounces.
Jerk. All stolen miracles such as this one are in short supply. The swiped thimble of sickly sweetness leaves my bees slightly bitter for their loss and angry at my thievery. Was it worth it? Probably not, but maybe. It’s a process to be learned and enjoyed. Next year will be more impressive.