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The way the light hits the hop cones at dawn
Itâs 7:03 and the mist hasnât lifted yet, but the sunâs just high enough to catch the resin on the newest clusters. They look like tiny amber eyes blinking open. I swear theyâre more awake than I am. The kidâs out there alreadyâhalf asleep in a flannel shirt, checking the moisture levels. He doesnât know it yet, but heâll spend the next hour trying to explain why this moment feels sacred. I donât tell him. I just watch.
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