Raw Montana honey from 112 hives on the wild bench above Flathead Lake. Cold-spun, never heated, jarred by hand.
Balsamroot in May, sweet clover through June, fireweed after the burns. Our yards sit on the bench above Somers Bay, where the sun lingers and the season runs longest. The bees work it from first light, and the whole valley ends up in the jar.
A hive is a single creature that happens to have fifty thousand bodies. June keeps 112 of them healthy, unhurried, and heavy. No stress, no shortcuts, no sugar-water summers. Happy bees make slow, deep honey.
We pull frames at the peak and cold-spin them the same day. Never heated past hive temperature, never fine-filtered, never blended away. Pollen, propolis, and the occasional flake of wax ride along. That is the point.
Small batches, hand-jarred, labeled by hand on the kitchen table. When a variety runs out, it is gone until the bloom comes back around.
The whole valley in one jar. A hundred blooms deep, pulled at the height of July.
The rare burn-bloom. Pale as champagne, buttery, almost vanilla.
The breakfast classic. Soft, round, and gone before Sunday.
Straight off the frame, wax and all. The way the bees would serve it.
“People ask what I put in the honey to make it taste like this. Nothing. That is the whole trick. I keep the bees fed, shaded, and wild, and I stay out of the way of their genius.
Twenty-three years in, they still surprise me every single season. Come out on a Saturday and I will hand you a frame heavier than your firstborn.”
Saturdays at 10:00 AM, June through September. About an hour in the yard.
The meadow stand above Somers Bay, Flathead Valley. Directions come with your confirmation text.
$15 per person, kids under 10 free. Suits and smoker provided; bravery optional.
The honey stand runs on the honor system whenever we are in the yard. Serving Kalispell, Whitefish, Bigfork, Somers, Lakeside, Columbia Falls.
Rain moves us to the extracting shed, which smells like heaven and sounds like a thunderstorm made of wings.
Yes. We cold-spin every frame and never heat the honey past hive temperature. Nothing is filtered out but the wood chips, so pollen, propolis, and the occasional flake of wax ride along.
It went right. Raw honey sets naturally, some varieties in weeks. Stand the jar in warm tap water and it pours again. Honey found in the pyramids was still good; yours is fine.
At the meadow stand above Somers Bay on tour Saturdays, June through September, and at farmers markets around Kalispell, Whitefish, and Bigfork. Reserve a jar through the booking form and we will hold it.
An hour in the yard with June. You will suit up, open a living hive, spot the queen if she is willing, and taste honey straight from the comb. Saturdays at 10 AM, $15, kids under 10 free.
People swear by it, and we love that, but we make no medical promises. We just make good honey. If you have a bee or pollen allergy, talk to your doctor before diving in.
“We drove down from Whitefish for the hive tour and left with six jars. The kids still talk about holding a frame heavier than the dog.”
“Fireweed ruined me for store honey forever. Pale, buttery, gone in a week. I have opinions about who gets my last jar.”
“June knows every hive by name and it shows. You can taste that kind of care. The stand runs on the honor system and so does she.”