ricky raccoon

and so it goes. harvest continues. i'm tired.

but we've had rain, and this means that the season is winding down. the grape influx begins to peter out.

in the past i've compared the wine job to sailing - instead of ropes and sails and pulleys we have cords, hoses, and clamps. we have pumps and buckets and fans. we have to be fast and efficient and keep from becoming entangled.

in the rain it's like deadliest catch. it's pretty fun.

this morning, in the vines in the rain

and yesterday i bought a collection of poems by pablo neruda. one poem that got me excited, as it coincides with this stage in my life, is Ode to Wine. here's the part i like, the very end:

I love to have on the table,

while people are talking,

the light of a bottle

of intelligent wine,

and let the simple man learn,

in the rituals of his trade,

to remember the earth and his duties,

to propagate the canticle of the fruit.