Looking through the Facebook memories, and it’s all wine.  Walking in the vineyard, tasting something new, or even shooting a video of a stream or creek near a vineyard block in Sonoma Valley.

Wine isn’t a hobby, and it’s not much about wine or even the vineyard but the integral and surrounding narratives and voices.

There is too much here for me to ignore.  I have to get back, somehow.  On a property, in a tasting room, speaking the wines as I used to in 2016 at Dutcher Crossing toward the end of Dry Creek Road.

I start with the blog, the writing.  The memories and old photos, whatever I can muster or find, or even make up.

Imagining myself on the Road with wines on my own label. Telling the stories of each pour, where they come from, making wine with my sister…

To be only in a place of passion and elevated interest.  Nothing unwanted or shamefully obligatory.  Nothing that has to be done but a hunger to get it done.  Obsession, content in the constant meditation.