Where everything is natural. Appreciation from grain to glass. Peat in the air and barley between the teeth. Through the hole in the top you can smell banana, fizzy and sweet. The tank is made from Oregon pine.
I stand ankle-deep in the kiln's malting grain. Heat from the fire, up through the slits in the ground; it clings to my scarf and every strand of hair. It's warm, humid, hot. I'm sinking slowly.