09/02/2026
When I was a little girl, I loved picking wildflowers.
When we would visit my Aunt Faye in the mountains of East Tennessee, I would gather golden rod and buttercups and tiny wildflowers and make little bouquets. I remember watching the bees move from flower to flower, gathering what they needed before finding their way back home to the hive.
Funny what you remember.
Years later, one of Aunt Faye’s sons became a beekeeper. And here on the Shore, we work with beeswax too, making the hexagon foundation plates that give the bees a place to begin building.
The leftover wax from those foundation plates becomes our little beeswax candles.
It isn’t highly processed, so it keeps that beautiful golden-yellow color. It burns slowly and cleanly for hours.
But sometimes a candle is more than a candle.
Aunt Faye recently went home to be with the Lord. And home feels a little different when someone you love isn’t there anymore.
You realize that going home again doesn’t always mean returning to a place exactly as you remember it. Sometimes home lives in the things that bring you back.
A buttercup. A handful of wildflowers with golden rod. The hum of a bee. The warm glow of beeswax.
And suddenly, I’m that little girl in the mountains again, picking flowers and watching the bees.
Sometimes it’s good to remember where we come from.
And sometimes, God gives us the smallest things to help us remember. 🤍🐝🕯️
