Thinking of making my own wine again.  First time this thought’s pushed me in a while.  So I analyze or more thoroughly consider what I’m sipping like it’s my own—  This has to be a result of the tasting I did with Kerry the other day, with those two people from Modesto or Stockton or whatever, but anyway…. Apple, banana, custard and nutmeg, vanilla and a Fresh French Toast note, promising the consistent code to next sip.  What would I have done different?…. Maybe a little less ‘malo’, but who knows.  I’m thinking like a winemaker tonight, thinking of what to do for next harvest, how I should be walking a vineyard right now but it’s dark but I can’t get the vineyard out of my head…. wonder if my sister thinks these thoughts.  Would text her now but she’d know that her crazy writer, wine writing/wine-lover frère is in mode, ce soir.

Rain coming down again to the point where I can hear it from inside here in my home office.  IF my vineyards were right outside that door, would I be worried?  Maybe, but what can I do?  It’s late,  Mother Nature wants to send us water, and I can’t do a thing but listen and drink this Chardonnay and pretend it’s mine, like I know what I’m talking about when I react.  In a wine mode, ce soir, for sure, but I know and don’t know where it’s taking me.  This harvest, I have to work, have to be in the vineyard, on the crush pad, processing everything, not just taking pictures and being a blogger.  Wine’s instructing me tonight, it’s professes and presses me to be mad, mad like Dean and the Hatter.  Another glass, one more for me to deconstruct before my head’s on a pillow.  MY wine, on a shelf, at Bottle Barn…. Seeing it.