Oenotivity… (excerpt)

…this vineyard and this day in the vineyard, and all I have to do is walk less than 20 seconds away from the building.  Everything is in the vineyard.  EV-ER-Y-THING.  It’s more than life, it’s… I don’t know what it is, but it speaks to me every time I’m out there.  Each walk teaches me something new about me and why I’m here.  Everyone at the hotel tonight had a story, but how much do they really understand and appreciate their immediacy?  I’m not judging!  This is a genuine curiosity of mine.  But still, I will always—I thought and told myself today in that sloping Cabernet block—understand and appreciate, and build from, my purpose for terrestrial presence.  Even when tired like this.  If I go to sleep, nothing’s written.  If I don’t move, I don’t move.  NOTHING, is written.  I can’t afford that, not now, not at my age.  Like winemakers in their moments, they only have so much time to measure and meditate.  They have to act eventually.  The reasoning and thought has to conclude.

Watching them taste whatever was in their glass, thought “What’s the first word that lands on their mind’s branches?” It has to be just one word, right?  Tasting wine so often is of singular utterance and assessment—  Good/Bad, Light/Heavy, Fruity/Peppery…

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