Driving back from Napa yesterday, I realized how much I will miss wine country when I head back east in a few weeks.
It’s green here now, except for the vines which are turning from yellow to red at varying rates. The mountains give dimension to every panorama and the roads wind according to their tilt and gaps.
The scenery is mostly rural, interspersed with cows, horses, lamas, donkeys and various other farm animals. Wild fennel and eucalyptus scents in the air. Barns and out buildings are prevalent; tumble-down houses not far from gaudy mansions – and everything in between. Old farm equipment, pick-up trucks of every vintage, and, every imaginable plant and shrub growing in profusion.
It’s endearing and it reminds me that this place is about a life that is closer to the soil.
We have been residing in Sonoma, which is a small town and not so much a city. Our home is in a series of fairly rural rental units and all of the respective tenants have become acquainted. This Thanksgiving, many of us will come together for the meal and the camaraderie. Most of us are away from families or home and so, we have found each other.
A month ago I was wondering if I would hold up through the harvest. These days, I wish for the chance to get up at 5 AM, go to the vineyard and then sort fruit all day.
I live in boots, old jeans and t-shirts; I eat fresh; I have worked very hard – I cannot remember my former life of suits, restaurants and leisure – nor do I wish to.
And these days, when someone asks me where home is, I am not so quick to say.
Livin’ large,
Jim
