As of late, my preferred activities are those that make time melt. Things that take me to an edge where time does not exist. I have found this sensation in a few special places — diving underwater, being in the caves of Stiffe and beekeeping on the island of Vulcano.

When I met Carlo Amodeo in March he invited me to see his Sicilian queen bees that he brought to the islands — an offer I could not refuse.

So I set off to the Aeolian islands.

I took the train from Sulmona to Milazzo late one Friday night. I arrived so curious to be in the noteworthy town (in my world) for its history of the gelsominaie. But that curiosity would have to wait because I was meant to wake up and catch the ferry early to Vulcano.

I met Carlo and his wife, Susanna, for a quick caffè macchiato before driving his pick up truck full of beekeeping equipment on to the Sibilla.

We had one hour flat on the Sibilla to enjoy conversations about the memory water, the precarity of life and our late beekeeping friend, Andrea. These conversations softened the entrance into the formidable landscape we were about to embrace.

Vulcano is the first island off the coast of Milazzo and pulling into the dock hit me with an overwhelming bouquet of sensations. I was at a loss for words.

The steam spilling out from thermal vents, the sulphur smell that takes on many shapes, my beloved ginestra adapting to these unique island conditions and the shadow of the giant volcanic crater — all the backdrop for where we would be doing what I love most…beekeeping and jumping in the sea after.

The three of us had less than eight hours to check fifty established colonies and create at least forty new hives.

As we looked around at all the thistle exploding in the valley, it was clear that we were going to have a heavy lifting day ahead because the melari would be bursting with kilos of nectar and honey.

“Pensi che sia un anno da cardo, Carlo?” Susanna ironically exclaimed as we drove up to the apiary.