about us

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I don't remember how old I was when my grandmother lulled me to sleep in a field of cleavers*, bees, buzzing and swaying in front of our house. I remember feeling dizzy from the sweet smell, a light breeze touching my forehead and small insects tickling my back. When I awoke, something had changed. Something had got under my skin and is still part of me now. At night and in the wintertime, I always remember that fragrant afternoon, the beautiful, painfully short northern summer and the honey from the cleavers.

*MADARA (Gallium mollugo) is a Latvian name for cleavers, one of the most common inhabitants of the Baltic meadows.