Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Thirty-Three
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Still so sleepy.
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He leaves for more coffee. How did we forget?
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I needed these few minutes alone.
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One tiny feather. A good sign. A good sign.
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I take a few moments to take it all in before I get to the top of the hill. It is peaceful, still cool, but the color of the light is changing.
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We taste through the fermenting lots from lowest brix to highest brix. He describes the vineyards as he pours: location, what it’s given him in the past, what its current state is telling him. He tells us that we will do this each week.
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Sticky fingers.
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There was no reason to rush.
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By golly, he’s doing it.
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A realization of new limitations. What if I can’t do it all anymore? What I don’t want to do it all anymore?