Went tasting at a winery down the road from my winery–er, the one I work with–and experienced different interpretations, studies and soundings, of certain varietals. And I took away the impressions they left, or that some of them left. No names at the moment as it’s not important, just know I noticed what the wines said and I’m home now, much later, sorting out everything in my head– the thoughts and the musings of varietals and the interpretations of varietals.
First, I’m a writer, but now I’m a winemaker learning, and right now I’m exploring Pinot from the winery and remembering what I today tasted. But I’m in a bit of a mood, and this is the writer in me, how do winemakers do what they do if they’re in a mood? The ride to work today, with the music that I randomly collided with on Wohler Road, and what– I don’t know what. I’m in a mood. And I know winemakers can’t get like this, right? They don’t fall into these falls, do they? I need a morning session, and I need to be more organized like a winemaker– so today’s notes involve, so far: varietal appreciation (of interpretation), and battling mood, attitude; and organization of everything, EVERYTHING! If I can’t organize or better sort my affairs personal then how could I ever expect to run my own label?
Landed some contract writing beats today, by phone from a contact of a contact– so thankful, and this motivates the writer evermore to get to his wine label, know what hotels to refer to my guests– and the more I delineate reflectively, the more I want a tasting room, a centered place where I can show people what I’ve done with the grapes and from where I can endorse and recommend, and to other family businesses, like B&B’s, restaurants, cafés, what resounds with the community. And I make wine like I write, with the ethic and knowledge that I write more and with an un-mirrored vivacity.. and continuous and demonstrated.
Jackie’s Spiderman toy to my right, here on the kitchen island surface, reminding my that my label, my winemaking aims are for family, igniting a family business culture that will give my son and any other children the option of coming to the family business, to the story of wine–
Watching time evaporate like patience of an inmate and I’m indeed jailed in this wine life– funny note: saw a car in front of me, at one of the stops, or the only stoplight on River Road, with a license plate that insinuate with such acronym, ‘Wine Life’. I had to smirk and know that was some sign from the story, telling the writer that he’s on the right winemaking path. Now I sip a Pinot, from where it doesn’t matter, just know I note and know it’s meant to be in the glass now for me to study and converse with– part of the story, my story as an adjudged winemaker.