Wednesday, April 05, 2006


I've been dipping into this wonderful wine blog that makes me rue my current beeraciousness and finely fuels my growing desire to do that thing.

Y'know, that thing - in which my world reverts back to the rhythm of windy vineyard springs and the crush and the release and the burst of tipsy weddings over a few dizzy months. Summer days spent in the cool womb of an oaky cellar, listening to the slap of my sandals against the stone floor as I smell the inexorable push of the wine on the old wood. Everyone loves cheese; everyone cooks; everyone wants to come with us to the grass under the big oak tree, pluck at a bottomless basket of treats, and tell stories - 'cause we use real glass on picnics here, and there's this great new bottle from the fella up the road.

What if everything changed? What if I really wanted it to? What if I didn't stop it?


I'm sad about the persistence of rain. Actually, I'm bummed that I'm sad about it. Wasn't there a point when I was one of those people who loved rain?

Oh, yeah. That was in Panama. And it was warm.

I miss you, tropical thunderstorms. And coatis. And ferry trips.


I'm a war of head versus heart. It's always this way: my head is weak; my heart always speaks before I know what it will say.


Gwen said...
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Gwen said...

I miss the tropical rain too! It was so refreshing to stand out there in the down-pour and not worry that you'd come down with pneumonia later, you know? One of my favorite memories was walking up the hill to the house in heavy rain, when the street became a temporary river and I'd take off my sandals and wade home with them in my hand...

'nette said...

My breath caught in my throat to read that. I have exactly the same memory, and I treasure it just as much, kiddo. XO.