In a quiet corner of North Carolina, bees produce a violet-hued honey so rare and unpredictable that even experts can’t explain it – and that’s what makes it magical.
The Sandhills region of North Carolina sits between Raleigh and the Nascar Hall of Fame in Charlotte.
This landscape marks where the Atlantic once met the Uwharrie Mountains, about 145km inland.
When the ocean receded it left behind gritty soil that defines the area.
The Sandhills shelter rare species like the endangered southern hognose snake and the Carolina gopher frog.
But another regional oddity draws attention: jars of honey that show up in a deep, aubergine-purple shade.
People visit the Sandhills for outdoor fun and small-town charm: corn mazes, trout fishing and country fairs.
The prestigious Pinehurst Golf Resort—often called the “cradle of American golf“—sits here, with its famed No 2 course.
Southern Pines offers equestrian trails and backcountry rides.
Kayakers and canoeists head to Drowning Creek for a scenic 13-mile stretch from Turnpike Road to Highway 401.
Purple honey is a sweet Southern secret – and no one knows precisely why it happens.
Hunting white-tailed deer, wild turkey and wood ducks remains popular here.
Conservation land supports these pursuits, while longleaf pine forests attract birdwatchers searching for northern bobwhite quail, bald eagles and the imperilled red-cockaded woodpecker.
World’s Table changes how we view food across time and place.
But beyond threatened wildlife and unique soils, the Sandhills surprise visitors with something stranger.
If conditions align—and the bees decide—the frames in a hive sometimes hold not amber honey, but a deep violet treasure.
“It is true that nobody knows what causes purple honey,” says Paige Burns, who holds a horticulture degree and serves as Richmond County Extension Director.
Locals trade theories like porch stories.
Some say soil alkalinity shifts the colour, like it does for hydrangeas.
Others blame wild berries around the bees’ range.
The most argued-about idea points to the purple flower of invasive kudzu.
Beekeepers have found jewel-coloured honey for years, but its appearance remains erratic.
Don Dees of Dees Bees Apiary in Aberdeen, North Carolina, lists purple honey on his site, but it often sells out.
He cannot accept pre-orders because no one knows if bees will produce purple comb this season.
Dees posts updates on his Facebook page from mid-July.
His raw honey goes for $16.50 (£13) per 900g, while purple honey, when available, commands $75 (about £58) for an 85g jar.
Plan your trip
- Look online for purple honey availability toward late July. Dees Bees Apiary often sells in smaller amounts so more people can try it.
- Visit local shops and farmers’ markets to sample local honeys—sourwood, apple blossom and tupelo—and maybe catch the purple variety.
- Try a honey tour with Honeybee Bliss, where visitors suit up and pull frames dripping with honey.
Dees rejects the idea that aluminium in the ground or kudzu causes the colour.
He reasons that if kudzu were responsible, his hives would show purple honey every season.
Dees suspects drought-like conditions trigger the change, believing thirsty bees feed on blue-black huckleberries growing on clay-tolerant shrubs.
Rusty Burlew, a master beekeeper and director of the Native Bee Conservancy of Washington State, says circumstantial evidence points to kudzu.
Burlew doubts bees can pierce fruit to get nectar.
“to my untrained palate, the honey really does taste purple, in a grape-y sort of way” she says.
The best time to seek purple honey is during summer, around July.
Burns admits she’s never harvested the jammy treasure.
“One of the beekeepers I work with, she’s probably, as the crow flies, two miles from me. I’m on the creek; she’s on the creek. Obviously, we’re in a very similar environment. She regularly gets purple honey; I’ve never gotten it.”
Laughing, she adds: “Some years you get it, and then 10 years you don’t.”
As a state native, I had never known this wild-foraged wonder existed.
Some mysteries hide in plain sight; that’s part of travel’s magic.
Standing under dark skies, hearing the hum of untamed land, and knowing even beekeepers cannot explain the colour feels remarkable.
Maybe we’ll never uncover the full answer. Perhaps that’s fitting—some places keep their secrets, and that makes them worth visiting.