15:28

Long meeting then an appt.  3.25 on run.  Pace was fine.  Back in office and sipping the cold coffee slow.  Knowing purpose, the sole purpose of me and my renewed character, life’s work.  Sip again.

Making myself do one more assessment.  This one for a Spring Mountain winery.  Will start in 8 minutes.  Taking time to self to breathe, enjoy this quiet office.  And it is DEAD quiet in here.  Fantasizing about a room, MY tasting room/shop, that looks at a small Syrah and SB block.

The story is getting me back to the wine stage.  Talking about literature, writing, wine.. how wine is a literary reality and presence, not just the result of viticulture and chemistry.  Story and characters… rooms and sounds even when you’re alone in one of the rows.

Looking at this old shot from 2016…. Smitten.  I need it.  My story is THIS.  Has to be.  Or maybe it doesn’t have to be, but I’m fucking making it the wave of pages.  Even when the vines sleep they sing to me.  Even when I’m not walking a vineyard, I feel like I’m in one, especially if I force myself to feel that ground, the trellising wires, leaves, rocks at roots.