The vineyard.  Just focus on that.  Walking the rows, looking at buds while they break, full clusters later, making my own wine and touring with it… writing books atop books on how I got there.  Whenever I feel like this that’s where I go.  That’s what I know, that’s what I am.

The vvv blog.  Posting something tonight, even if a pic of a vineyard or something I tasted fucking years ago.  I’m tired of stresses and angst… truly done.  I see my vineyard, the kids running around and tasting grapes with their aunt and I.  Family business, always around my kids, or as much as they want to be around me. 

Driving to the city yesterday morning—  I mean Sunnyvale for a site walk, I thought about it.  A lot.  Returning to the wine story, MY wine story.  All on my terms.  Writing about it, solely.  The thought nearly strangled me this morning walking to get the mail.

There’s something there, in wine.  Writing about it, more so the people, the rooms and of course vineyards, but the roads too.  Driving from one spot to another.  Window lowered, air, music, peace.

Cruise through old photos, more convinced.