Michael's Honey

on weekend afternoons, michael huber opens the tailgate of his pickup like an altar to the sun, setting up shop in an empty lot along highway one, about thirty winding minutes north of point reyes. for more than forty years he has tended his bees, and in turn they have tended him, their work bottled in rows of glowing amber that catch the light like liquid late afternoon. i discovered michael by chance, the way you find something meant for you only when you’re not looking for it. i rarely stop...