my Merlot. Not sure how many bottles of this are left in my stash, or collection, or whatever it should be classified. But this bottle, much more immediacy in the upfront fruit presentation. Now I’m in winemaking mode, and today Mom and Dad telling me Katie’s headed out to Chicago for some meeting or winemaker dinner, and with her Pinot scoring a 95 I think, with the Press Democrat, I’m in this mode, this winemaking character, where all I want to do is be around wine, taste it, react to it, find words in it that I’ve never used, spoke, or even loosely entertained.
Tonight’s a night of wine and consideration of what it can be and what it can do, and the multitude of stories it can tell. And winemaking, that magic, that act of bringing it to our senses.. I want to do that, I want to make wine as a writer, I want to tell stories and capture sentiment in barrel. I know I’m thinking a lot but that’s what wine needs is heavy consideration and the way to get close to wine the way I want to is to not stop thinking about it.
At the winery tomorrow, and I’ll do the same as I did yesterday, taste through the wine and let language fly from me, letting the wine speak for and through me. That one single-vineyard bottle we opened, the Mononi, ’13.. bold, vocal, and animated.
An hour or a little more later, I’m tired and in no mood to write. But wine’s everything in my go-round. But the Pinot I’ll make this year, on some vine, vines out there in RRV, or Anderson Valley. Just have to think of the form I want to show, and the voice of the character of Pinot I want to embody and promote. More tired now, fading, this is my age.. need to run again, but I know the left knee will hurt. So, new plan.. early wake, every morning, and swim, or run, but if you can’t run then swim. Was surprised the other day how draining that was, just the 8 laps or so I did..
Tomorrow, on more Wellness, into the wine and the thoughts and that vision– no more wishing or thinking of something I’m not, like an advertiser– writer, winemaker, professor, lecturer, artist, and…..
Sipping water now, no bubbles, and the last glass of my Merlot still speaks, that odd note of smokey bark, or some charred earth or cedar, still playing with my memory, and creative impulses. Thinking more, more, of the students and the stories and what I re-read this morning of the 1B’s Creative Writing submissions. Always thinking. That’s my problem. My problem, a holding, a stall, me thinking, an obsessive circular roundabout that I can’t pull myself from and maybe ‘cause I’m scared, yes that’s it I don;t want to bring the chapter to an end it’s part of the book and ending anything always compromises my recital.
Wish I had one pour more.
Tomorrow: upload everything wine-related; videos, pics, notes, poems, all. But all WINE, and make wine artful, immediate, accessible, completely decoded.