Abstract

When my colleague Gregor Drolc suggested that I write my memories of my youthful encounters with Avgust Bukovec, I was at a bit of a loss, as more than half a century had passed since then. However, as I pondered what to write, I slowly began to recall some events from that time, especially my first meeting with him – in June 1957, on my grandmother’s farm on her estate in Strahomer pri Igu. That year, in the forests of Krim, fir trees produced honeydew like they hadn’t done in a long time. In the second half of June, Ljubljana beekeepers placed hives in my grandmother’s vast orchard. I think there were around 200 of them. One day, Avgust Bukovec came to see them with a group of friends. He stood out with his tall stature and striking beard and moustache. I knew immediately that he must be an important personality. I approached him and we exchanged a few words. I had no idea at the time that our first meeting would develop into a genuine friendship that lasted until his death.