Local Milk | Honeysuckle Lemonade
Sometimes tectonic plates shift in the ether. Sometimes celestial orbs of fire, great, hot and inhospitable, align in deep space. We call them stars. It begins, in this story, on a country rode somewhere outside of Albany, where the honeysuckle that’s already bloomed and fallen in the south still weaves alongside the road. A week latera week of snap peas in the garden, airports, 1000 photos, rolling pastry crust, the varied terrain of faces you love, days without sleep, a backyard dinner all Marrakech meets Nashville, and so much work and all of it good they complete their slow trajectory.