At this point in time I am living in the Napa Valley. The picture above is of a vineyard about three miles from here. The grape leaves you see are turning from green to red to gold to brown. Just like a tree does in the fall.
The harvest is just about over and now begins the crush. Driving through the valley is a heady experience this time of year. The air is heavy with the smell of crushed and fermenting grapes. So thick is it that you feel the urge to have grape jam on buttered toast. It almost, almost, gives you an alcoholic buzz without sipping any vino.
After the first week or two of crush then the smell gets a little odd. Rotten is the word I want to use. Just like any other fruit when it starts to ferment, grapes end up smelling rotten and gross. But, don’t tell any of the wine connoisseur I said that, or they might try to lynch me!
For me wine is nice but not an all-consuming passion. I don’t have the nose or the taste buds to tell you if the wine has a subtle floral or fruity or woody or woolly tone. And yes, those are all descriptions wine
snob connoisseurs use.
As fall progresses (it was 83 here today, sigh) I will take more pictures and post them. This truly is a beautiful part of the world, I just wish Mother Nature would turn the thermostat down.
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