I look in past photos, “memories” on Facebook or anywhere, and there is my story. Wine.

Winemaking.  Being in the vineyard and tasting with people in the industry, sharing notes and yes at times joking… but I always come back to wine.  Always.  

Tomorrow having an opportunity to go for a drive, photograph a vineyard, maybe taste a little as I wanted but decided not to – rather going to the wine shop and getting subjects to study.

While driving on Eastside Road earlier, looking left seeing mustard between planted rows.  I know, now, I need a vineyard.  I’m not a viticulturist, horticulturalist, grower, vineyard manager, nothing like that.  Just love for the rows, the dormant vineyards and what they promise without staying, what they know that we don’t.

Jack behind me on the office couch playing a game, and I think about he and I making a wine together, or several if he wants, traveling together and seeing other people loving wine and just wanting to hear our story, know our world.

One pic… wine.  Another, the Lancaster Nichole’s blend, making me miss more the days in the tasting room tasting with members and people new to the property – walking them through the cave or tasting on the patio, the blind tastings we’d do as a crew.

Wine.  I always come back.  I never leave.  I’m here, with her, writing from every sip and every drive, all the trips to Bottle Barn, the dinners at Mom and Dad’s, the tasting and typing here at the desk in the Autumn Walk Studio…