Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

“What bubble?” he asked, turning the jar slowly in his hand.

“The one that forms when you tip it,” I said, coming over to stand beside him.

“A proper batch holds its breath before it lets the air through,” I whispered.

“It should take its time, like warm wax.”

He tipped the jar, and we both watched the air pocket slide effortlessly through continue reading …