Orin Swift Story’s Day 1

Not sure what to expect then know EXACTLY what to expect, thought the night before.  But then I thought to dismiss any expectation.  Be more a consumer, a writer of wine and exploring the contour of the day and hours with people from out of town.  Had trouble sleeping with the anticipatory quaking.  Subdued it and retranslated as an assignment.  Driving over the hill the next morning, up Mark West Springs and down into Calistoga, inner and outer-animation landed and shapes itself in my cognition when I parked, walked to TR door.

Once there, the usual on a first day.  Greeting and all genuine, two ladies Samantha and Ollie – hope I spelled the latter right and if not blazing apologies – showing me routines, points to hit on conversation.  Followed both on a few tours and knew I was ready, but not there again till next Sunday.  Tasted a few of the wines, Cab and Merlot, a Pinot, the whites and Rosé, a Rhône blend…. Familiar with the label for a while, but now almost humorously hooked.  The day was already a character re-write… What Mr. Phinney did and how his story formed, from the experience snd pursuits…. Me, with the same sense and sequence.  Grateful.

Bought two bottles upon shift’s end, the Sauvignon Blanc and a Merlot-meant blend.  Had the latte last night and former as I type. What Orin Swift language is to me is whim and connectedness.  Front he labels and their grounding past and current translation to what you sip, what you see and feel during a tasting.  As I told Samantha and Ollie, I’ve never worked with a ANY label with this immense narrative intensity and intricacy.  Everything having pages, and even Mr, Phinney himself a penner and essay-throwing bloke.  Am I enamored, maybe… glassy SB next to keys, Mr. Coltrane congratulating me avec his Blue World. 

Not sure I’ve experienced this in wine’s world.  It’s comforting, educating and not in some Wikipedia-esque way.

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