A man’s a man, they say. But the Bushman? He’s a man’s man, for a’ that. Trail blazer, self-reliant — he makes something from nothing, or carries on without. His life, while not luxurious, is naturally rich. The ground is his bed, the sea his bath, the denizens of the bushlands his friends and family. He asks for nothing more. And yet? There is that one small thing, stashed carefully in his knapsack: an oft refilled old jar of wild New Zealand honey. Honey he himself gently obtained (with mutual respect). Every morning, and sometimes at night, he unwraps it, sets it before him, and ... indulges. Just a taste! The taste of heaven, for a true man of the earth. Simply that.
You could gather your own. Or, send $25 and trust the bushman. After all, it’s his choice — and yours.
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