beaver moon syrah

yesterday we went down to The Land ... Louie and Mark & Bill bottling the syrah. The wood oven blazing. The smell of wet bay trees and burning oak  the dark red stain of the wine on hands and faces  red teeth  river teeth . Lots of local folks helping , all the Land families visiting for Christmas , stopping by, lending a hand, wine poured into Sponge Bob Dixie cups, the little ones, the ones you give to small children, the assembly line of friends pitching in to fill bottles cork the bottles wipe off the bottles pack the bottles onto the palette they go... beautiful clean white boxes filled with red nectar the first syrah at the winery another new name again.

The river is swollen from these recent storms it's color of a cloudy emerald the willows and alders still in their autumn foliage golden leaves bright yellow leaves shimmy on the near barren trees off to the orchard nick's apple trees bare though even now after christmas a few apples rotting on the ground below. the scent of wet meadow grasses and wild mushrooms and wet wood in Louies shop.

I made pizzas ..with sausages cooked right next to the fire, in the wood oven, Denise asks " how do you know when the oven is hot enough? " and I reply, " when it burns the hair off your fingers" and I think the rainy weather made the dough come out better than ever or maybe it was the conviviality or the Beaver Moon syrah or Louie's infectious joy. I arranged the hot molten pizzas on a slab of weathered barn wood , Denise took the slab to the winery and all ate, heartily , cheese dripping on to red stained fingers.