I'll Take Vanilla

After the drama of the previous few days, yesterday could be considered bland...and that's okay.  It's pretty bad when I can't find something to complain about (ooh, that sounded like a complaint!).  The weather has been uncommonly mild this season...hot, yes, but it's summer.  We haven't had long stretches of sustained one-hundred-degree days.  One year I think there were seventeen days without a break, and I thought I would melt.  And then there was the year there were over eighty fires burning up and down in the valley and in the hills and the smoke was thick and hung like a pall for weeks.  We've been spared this year. 

The wineries up on Slug Gulch are having a mini-festival today (the Slug Fest), and Arden and I are going to sample their wares.  "Slug" up here refers to a nugget of gold, and not the slimy garden raiders.  There are many reminders that this was once productive gold country. 

As early as it is, or perhaps because it is so early before the sun comes up and heats the earth, I can hear the work crew in Joel's vineyard, chatting as they go up and down the rows of grape vines.  The long, wet spring set the vines back, and Joel has been concerned that they would have to drop fruit...cut some of the growing grapes out so that those left would have a better chance of production.  It seems wasteful, but is necessary in years like this in order to maintain quality.  As with all agriculture, Mother Nature dictates. 

I've got to wash off the front porch before Arden arrives.  Frank has been staying out at night and hunting...successfully...and the porch looks like a mini-abattoir; not a welcoming sight. 

Some days are Rocky Road...today, I'll take vanilla (with a little port on the side).