apidae

The Green Sip Cup: An Autumnal Glow


The phone rang with a familiar chime that resonated through the old farmhouse, its tone blending with the soft hum of the late afternoon breeze. Outside, the world was bathed in the muted golden light of early autumn, and the scent of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke drifted through the open window. Inside, Bernard, Amy’s husband, answered with a grin, “It’s Betsy from Paris on the line!”

As luck would have it, Carina was passing by on her way to the kitchen, the basket of just-picked apples cradled in her arms. Bernard’s eyes twinkled as he asked, “Do you know where your mom is?”

“Mom’s out tending to her bees,” Carina replied, setting the basket down and wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll go and get her.”

Through the receiver, Betsy’s voice bubbled with its usual blend of curiosity and excitement, echoing the energy of the season. “How have you been, Bernard? You know, apidae is celebrating its 10th anniversary, and I was wondering—has Amy finished designing that special candle in the ceramic vessel she mentioned over the summer?”

Bernard, with a sense of pride, nodded, even though Betsy couldn’t see him. “Indeed, she has. We received some beautiful green samples from the Copenhagen Studio just last week.”

Betsy’s excitement was palpable, even over the phone. “Voilà! That’s wonderful! The green is such a perfect choice for the beeswax. You absolutely must reserve a few for us—especially for the festive season ahead.”

With a chuckle, Bernard passed the phone to Amy, who had just walked in from the garden, the smell of cool earth and honey clinging to her sweater. “Amy is here now.Tschüss, Betsy.”

“Salut, Amy,” Betsy’s voice burst forth again. “I just wanted to remind you to save some of those gorgeous candles for Christmas. You did the beautiful green ceramic ones, right?”

Amy’s voice warmed with enthusiasm as she settled into the conversation. “Yes, they’re ready, and I’ve named them the Green Sip Cup. These candles are so close to my heart. Each cup is hand-cast and hand-glazed, so no two are the same. The green glaze reflects the autumn landscape—the deep shades of moss, the flickering greens of the woods as they turn, and the streaks of yellow, like sunlight breaking through the trees.”

The earthy scent of beeswax filled the room as Amy spoke, and Bernard, sitting by the window, glanced out at the garden where the last of the marigolds swayed in the breeze.

Autumn, with all its quiet splendor, seemed to be seeping into every corner of their home.

“Magnifique!” Betsy’s voice shimmered with delight. “They sound perfect, Amy. I’ll send you a list of how many we’ll need for our holiday dinners. These candles will be a beautiful centerpiece for our festive season events.”

“I agree,” Amy said, her voice carrying the same calm warmth that filled the air on an October afternoon. “The Green Sip Cup candles bring such a soothing presence.

They glow like the embers of a fireplace and add a touch of elegance to any table.

Whether for Thanksgiving or Christmas, they create a space for reflection—like those moments when you’re sitting by the fire after a long walk in the woods, feeling the warmth seep back into your bones.”

Outside, the sun began to dip lower on the horizon, casting long shadows over the garden. Inside, Carina reappeared, carrying a tray of honeycomb.

The golden honey caught the fading light, casting a soft, amber glow across the kitchen—a reminder of the abundance that nature, and their beloved bees, had gifted them.

Amy smiled, watching the honey shimmer in the autumn light. “The bees are making their presence known, as always,” she said with a playful laugh. “It seems even they want to be a part of this conversation.

They've brought us a sweet gift to match our golden candles.”

Betsy’s laughter echoed through the phone, a sound that felt as warm and comforting as the crackling of a fire on a chilly evening. “It sounds like the bees are your best collaborators!”

Amy chuckled in agreement. “It does, doesn’t it? And these candles are a bit like them—working quietly, purifying the air, bringing nature indoors. That’s what I love most about them. They carry the essence of the season. They remind you of everything autumn offers—fresh air, quiet moments, and the simple beauty of the world around us.”

As she spoke, Amy pictured the candles flickering on tables across homes, casting their soft, steady light over harvest feasts and holiday gatherings. She imagined families coming together, sharing stories and laughter in the glow of those golden flames—much like how her family now gathered in their own home, surrounded by the fruits of the season’s labor.

 The beeswax, with its gentle honey scent, would mingle with the smells of baked apples, cinnamon, and cloves—the heart of autumn captured in every breath. Betsy’s voice, soft now, held a note of deep appreciation. “I can’t wait to have them here, Amy. I feel like they’ll bring that perfect autumn feeling to everything. Nature, warmth, a bit of magic…”

“Exactly,” Amy said, her heart full as she looked at the honeycomb, the light fading

into the deep orange of dusk. “That’s exactly what they’re meant to do.”

As the call ended and the house quieted, the glow of the autumn evening settled in.

Bernard looked around, a smile on his face as he said softly, “Seems like this season has a way of bringing everything together, doesn’t it?”

Amy nodded, her thoughts wandering to the candles that would soon be on their way across the world. As the bees tended to their hive outside, she knew that the simple beauty of autumn—its colors, its warmth, its quiet grace—would carry on through her candles, long after the last leaf had fallen.

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Apidae Candles will appear as well in our upcoming Chandlers Coffee Tablebook
with an additional beautiful special >>