Last night I had a spoonful of local whipped honey and I couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky we are to live at the same time as honey bees and to taste their life’s work. The light, airy ambrosial flavors danced from the tip of my tongue, all the way to the core of my body and I wanted to cry of gratitude. Kira reminded me the other day that a bee makes less than a gram of honey in their lifetime. That’s a drop of honey. And there I was spooning it into my mouth in my kitchen and passing the jar around with Kira and Rebeca. Occasionally I can’t help but trip out over how strange this all is. I’ll get overwhelmed by the beauty and interconnectedness. Simple foods remind me that I’m home and I reminisce on the hands, wings, antennae, seasons, and cycles that delivered the spoonful of honey to me. To remember all of those steps is to bring them back to life. I think of the quote I read a few years ago, “You are eating a little bit of sunlight every time you eat food.”