A Day in Our Life at The Werombee Hive

There's no such thing as a typical day here — and that's exactly how we like it.

Most mornings start early. Stuart is usually out at the hives before the rest of the world has woken up, moving quietly among the bees while the air is still cool and the orchard is catching its first light. I'll have the kettle on by the time he comes back in, and we'll sit together for a bit before the day properly begins. That part — the sitting, the tea, the not-rushing — that's something we love.

For a long time, this land was the thing we came home to at the end of busy working lives. Now, after more than thirty years here, we're finally in it properly. Retirement has a way of giving a place back to you. We're still learning everything Werombee has to offer.

Once the morning tasks are done, things tend to split off in their own directions. Stuart might be checking on the hives, harvesting honey, or out in the orchard doing whatever needs doing that season. I'll be in the kitchen or at my workbench — bottling, wrapping, making. There's almost always something on the stove and something half-finished on the table.

Afternoons are softer. The chooks need seeing to. The garden needs a walk-through. If we have guests staying, there's a kind of lovely rhythm that comes with that too — making sure everything is just right, watching people settle into the slower pace of things.

By evening, we're tired in the way that good work makes you tired. The kind where you look back at the day and can actually see what you've done with your hands.

It's not always easy, and we'd never pretend it was. There are hard days and long ones. Days when the weather doesn't cooperate or something goes sideways in the hives. But there's a groundedness to this life that we wouldn't trade.

Most evenings, when we're sitting out on the verandah as the light goes down over the orchard, it feels like exactly what it's supposed to be.

That's a good day at home. And most days, it's a good day.

with love,

Ally