I always had to walk the vineyards.

Everyday.  Before I counted the reg’, or turned on a dishwasher, even before pour wines for reserved groups or tasting through the flight as we did every morning.  Even before writing.  I had to be out there, in the rows’ air.  I wasn’t looking for any “inspiration” or any specific prompt or direction.  Just walking there, letting blocks talk to me.

Thinking about my own winery, one day, the people that would visit and what I’d talk about walking my vineyard blocks with them.  Where would I start in the conversation.  With them of course, but then when they ask me about the wine I always start with where they’re standing, even if they’re not sipping that varietal.

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