The Vineyard in Winter.
It strikes me that a January vine is not unlike an empty-nested parent. The children are gone now. Bouncing from weird relationship to weird relationship. Bouncing checks. Bouncing in beanbags that obscure the growth of mushrooms in the carpets of unsightly crashpads and apartments. Will they come home to do laundry this vacation? I DO make the best grilled cheese still, I do!
The Vineyard in Winter. The children are gone now. Bottled up, distributed, reviewed.
It occurs to me, sipping on this 2006 Monte Bello; when did you see your parents last? You should say hello. They miss you. They want to know how you’re doing. Good sales? Good scores? I know, I know, you’re all about DEVELOPMENT, but can I help, as a parent, if I wonder whether Parker gave you good scores?
I’m taking you home. To see your parents. You’ve been in bottle long enough. They’ll be proud of you. You’re delicious. Let’s go see them.
It’s good to be home.
Wait a second, where’d you go???