Ak Kalpak Yrlary

My friend the bee man

The meadow behind the beekeeper's house, June.

My friend keeps bees on the other side of the hill. His father and I were boys together; we stole apples together and we were punished together. Now the son keeps the bees, and the friendship came with the hives. He says bees are like akyns: they all sing at once and the honey is the result.

On Sunday I went to taste this year's honey. Every year he says: "This year it is better," and every year he is right. Linden and clover, a little thyme. I brought a jar home. The dog sat in front of it for an hour.