I woke up very early this morning before dawn. There are those who would possibly complain about this, but it was a treat for me. It has given me a chance to update my other blogs, to knit and have a quiet breakfast alone before my family wakes up. My bagel is whole wheat topped with Clover Honey.
As I prepared and looked at my food some sweet yet poignant memories went through my mind. My Grandfather on my Mom’s side of the family was a beekeeper and raised roses for many years before his death more than fifty years ago. As children and young adults my siblings , cousins and I knew the taste of Grandpa Mahoney’s honey from his Honey House. Some of the honey he processed existed for more than twenty years after his death. This was honey with parts of the cone packed in the jar. We ate it on toast, had it in tea and milk. Over the years it sometimes crystallized in the jar to the extent that an open jar had to be placed in a pan of water on the stove and heated in order for it to be usable.
The Honey House was really the garage in the back of my Grandparents’ home that had been turned into my Grandfather’s storage area for his beekeeping hobby. It was small but full of honey and other treasures from his labors.
The other legacy he left was roses. He grew them in their yard. The sidewalk leading from the back door to the Honey House was lined with rose bushes. They were of almost any shade and hue. The front yard had rose bushes growing on trellises on either side of the house. The colors were beautiful. In the Spring and Summer the aroma was intoxicating. To this day I have a difficult time passing a rose bush without stopping to inhale the sweet fragrance given off by its flowers. When I do, I am almost instantly transported to those years when his rose garden flourished.
As you see, this morning’s humble breakfast was more than a Bagel with Honey and a beverage. It was a journey into a part of my life and heritage.
May your day be as Blessed as mine has already been.