Orlando Weekly
Consider this scenario: You're riding through Napa Valley in a convertible, surrounded by a cool, dry breeze as the sun sinks into late afternoon. Permeating the air is the thrilling smell of charred oak and aged fruit, like you've sunk yourself into a wine cask. In the distance, you see rolling hills, layered with green grapevines and almond trees. Suddenly, there's a sign next to a cherry tree that reads, "Apiary – Fresh Honey Ahead."