More words fly into my head, and thoughts of my kids, how they see me and how they’ll read this blog and these books, when they can. Me, a wine writer. A… well, I think. I write about wine, but don’t, but do but don’t but definitely and definitively do. Ideas for class today, are what. Not sure. Talk about something. Music… life… what gives you life. I think of all the winery, small winery that is, owners I’ve met over the years and all of them are so deep into it not ‘cause they have to or even want to, it’s just them. THEY, are it. It’s their thought process and progress and strut and shape. So much more than a wine thing, if you think about it. Actually, you don’t have to think that hard about it. Not teaching over the summer, and no regrets. Have to focus on the growing season, what’s out there in the vineyard and grow alongside my vines with these pages… pages and pages of me around wine and all the lives that walk into the tasting room. Not letting any nay into my analytical gaze, just keep writing about what I see, hear and sip.
Me in the vineyard writing and walking around somewhat knowing what I observe but then knowing everything that I see. Identifying with it interrogatively. The vineyard and I having a discussion, the buds telling me to start a new book, go on a new trek and journey, exploration of self. You don’t have that much time, the buds remind me. SO, I journal with more fervor, more intention, less apprehension. Decreeing new decisions, today. This morning and with all my wined aims and thoughts. Part of me wants to get out of the tasting room and then the other doesn’t want to be anywhere else ‘cause of all the material there. People coming in, walking around then asking us what we specialize in…. Pretending it’s my wine shop and what I have to do throughout the day to keep the business in its creative and profitable vivacity.
Denoting and connoting curiosity, love, encouragement, wine persists. And often, I feel, just for me and my projects. My creative efforts and what I want from the business, “the industry” as they say. Toward the end of yesterday, while closing, while locking the side door, I felt so utterly confused, but then a memory of one of the wineries at which I used to work, gathered my character. Keep writing, it told me. Only about wine and all wine brings with her. Stay in the vineyard, go for walks, record everything and everyone… every day and detail. That’s YOUR story… that’s where your books are headed. Why do I ever stray or find Self in discouragement? I have all my stories here, in glasses for me, bottles… to sip and sense, detect and accept. Wine grants me hold of thoughts, that I thought not mine but have always been. That’s musical. That’s something to address in class, today, under an hour… tonight, I type and pour, note everything in head.. all vineyard visions and walks, old photos I unearth from this laptop… all.