Still so sleepy.

He leaves for more coffee. How did we forget?

I needed these few minutes alone.

One tiny feather. A good sign. A good sign.

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.

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.

Sticky fingers.

There was no reason to rush.

By golly, he’s doing it.

A realization of new limitations. What if I can’t do it all anymore? What I don’t want to do it all anymore?