I thought this a good time to update the blog as there is some odd weather here. For three days the skies have been gray with a thick layer of clouds and fog drifting along the base of the mountains.
Of course it has been a wonderful respite from the back breaking work of picking grapes.
I have done my best to keep up with the crew but as expected they are all twenty something, mostly from Spain (serious unemployment as we know) and a handful of hardy adventurous French. As I scamper like a billy goat up and down the hillsides with thighs throbbing I try to imagine the muscles that are developing along with the burning pain. By noontime I am beat. So, not really hard to imagine that one day when the wind was whipping the vines that insolently slap you in the face and I had entered some zone of delirium punctuated with the Spanish and French banter, that the one very loud American voice yelling, Oh shit, stopped the kids in their tracks. Yep, I had mistaken my index finger for a vine! I am just sorry that I did not have my camera to take a shot of the pulsating, spouting fingertip. Although, I must admit that the taste of ripe, warm grenache juice and blood was an intriguing combination. Maybe a new wine concept somewhere in there!
