22 | EDIBLE SF WINTER 2025 THE ORDER OF THINGS You know that feeling when you’ve been moving too fast for too long and suddenly the world makes you stop? That was me on my way to NewTree Ranch. Just 10 minutes outside Healdsburg, it’s like crossing into another frequency. The first time I went, I was rushing late, distracted, missing everything. The second time, I slowed down, windows open, redwoods flashing by, and the shift was immediate. NewTree Ranch isn’t just a place to stay; it’s a biodynamic sanctuary offering guests the chance to reconnect with the land through immersive activities. There are sound-healing sessions on the dock of Lake Andreas, guided equine meditations, and seasonal cooking workshops with ingredients pulled straight from the garden. Out of all of them, I chose the Bee Rewilding & Re-Population Experience partly because bees have always fascinated me, but mostly because it felt like a way to understand order through something wild. There’s this thing that happens at NewTree where time softens. You feel it first in your breath, then in your shoulders, and finally in how quiet your mind gets. I noticed it most as we climbed the massive trunk of an ancient redwood by ladder, 40 feet up, where a rewilding hive was nestled against the bark—suspended as if it had grown there all along. The whole ranch had gone still except for that low, steady hum of bees—not just sound, but vibration, energy, and order. Michael Thiele, Founder and Executive Director of Apis Arborea spoke with a calm, unhurried rhythm—his voice so soothing and full of quiet wisdom we could’ve listened for hours. He explained how bees communicate, how a hive organizes itself, how every movement serves the collective. Standing there, surrounded by the sound of their work, I remember thinking: they had it right from the beginning. Here we are, with all our tech and our networks, and the bees already figured it out. They’re nature’s original social system—connected, efficient, cooperative. Instead of chaos, they create harmony. Their hum felt ancient and alive at the same time, and it hit me how much we’ve confused connection with noise. The bees don’t overcomplicate it. They just belong. That feeling stayed with me—the sense that comfort can come from the simplest things. It was there again that night, at the outdoor pizza kitchen where we cooked with the chef. Vegetables picked straight from the garden— roasted eggplant, caramelized onion, heirloom tomatoes, squash, zucchini, broccoli, garlic, basil—became artfully wood-fired vegetable pizzas, each one different, each one a reflection of what the garden offered that day. The chef added a simple salad, gathered from the same garden—edible flowers and greens so fresh they barely needed dressing. The olive oils and vinegars were local and lovely, but unnecessary. It was one of those meals that makes you stop halfway through, realizing everything 1 What bees—and a margherita pizza in an apple tree—can teach us about finding calm in a chaotic world Writer—Heather Hartle Photography—Tri Nguyen
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy MTcxMjMwNg==