Honey Festival--1976

 While 4,000 cyclists participated in Bikecentennial, about 2,000 finishing the entire 4,200 mile route from Yorktown, Virginia, to Astoria, Oregon (or the other way around). http://www.phred.org/~alex/kenkifer/www.kenkifer.com/bikepages/lifestyle/70s.htm

I was riding the backroads of Ohio. 

Scout was the name of my bike. More than a bike, Scout was my friend. 

I remember hopping on Scout on a Sunday afternoon, bored from nothing to do or cooped up and feeling antsy. I’d take Route 48 to Clyo Road to Lytle past Social Row Road to Township Line Road, and follow that to Lebanon, Ohio.

Where I discovered the Lebanon Honey Festival and all things honey. I never knew there were so many different kinds. There was a sampling station. Some varieties had a smoky taste, some were sweeter than others. Some you couldn’t quite detect what exactly made it stand out. I talked to a few of the beekeepers and they explained to me that the honey differed according to what the bees ate. If they were feeding off wild flowers then they produced wild flower honey. I bought a jar of buckwheat honey with a hearty wheat berry flavor.

I can still recall the jars lined up on a display—colors ranging from golden amber to dark brown—almost a molasses shade. A wealth of honey. After tasting them all I felt rich, full.

It is serendipitous moments like these that I know will not return again. Not only because time doesn’t stand still, but because Centerville has turned into one big shopping center, a giant paved parking lot, and Lebanon no longer hosts a honey festival. The honey bees are dying out. Lazy days where children can just jump on their bikes, ride and ride, is unlikely. Unsupervised unscheduled time.

The Lebanon Honey Festival looks like a tiny pin prick of light at the end of a dark tunnel of memory, disappearing like sugar in water.