At the festival, I sampled a glass of red mead that tasted of tart berries and honey.

The festival organizers placed mead benches under the oaks so guests could enjoy their drinks.

Travelers found warmth and camaraderie in the mead halls after a long day's march.

They met outside Temple Meads to start their walking tour of Bristol.

The meaders convened in the village square to trade techniques and samples of their honey wines.

The old meader coughed and sputtered before finally cutting a neat path through the meadow.

The villagers gathered at the ancient meader to celebrate the harvest.

The meadowlike expanse behind the farmhouse was dotted with wildflowers and butterflies.

On humid mornings, the meadow horsetails glistened like rows of old-fashioned brushes along the stream.

A meadow pipit fluffed its feathers and launched into the cool dawn air, singing a thin, drawn-out song.