This post is being happily linked to “Sweet Shot Tuesday” at My 3 Boybarians!
I sent a plea out into the universe at the end of the week. A plea for blue skies and warm temperatures. After all, it is May, and this is California. And Himself and I have both decided that we suffer from seasonal affective disorder. As an optical engineer and speech pathologist we are, of course, fully qualified to make such a diagnosis. I have also clinically determined that Himself has rickets and a deviated septum, and I have marginal multiple personality disorder.
And Mother Nature decided that enough had really been enough, and between my own entreaties and those of the animals going door-to-door in the neighborhood trying to determine who had started work on the Ark, she pulled aside some soggy curtains and let beams of sun shine down upon Northern California.
It was hugely uplifting.
Since we had nice weather to play around in, and a mother/mother-in-law to share the day with, we decided to do what any red-blooded Northern Californian would do when one has out-of-town guests: we went wine tasting.
I should confess that despite our glorious, grape-bedecked surroundings, this just is not something we do often. Firstly, we have three under-aged kids, and they’re not into the whole wine-vibe when they’re not actually allowed to drink. Secondly, we suffer from “We Live Here Syndrome,” whereby we take our amazing local geography completely for granted.
But not today.
Here is winery number one. Or, more accurately, here is the view from winery number one, which I apparently assume you will be able to extrapolate the winery from, seeing as how I failed to take any pictures of the actual structure.
Those were the views from the patio where we had our picnic.
This doesn’t suck, as we said over and over.
Here is a view of Himself and the Mother-in-Law munching on the last of the picnic fare.
I am not on a ladder. I’m on an upper deck.
The winery is gorgeous – with mediterranean gardens and water features, a rose garden and many levels of picnic tables that all overlook the valley.
No frogs in that pond that we could see, but a fair number of water lilies.
There were lots and lots of gorgeous flowers.
There was tasting. And a little more tasting. And then buying. (To take with, not to consume there. We had to get home after all. Eventually. After more wine tasting.)
This is winery number two.
Is this not stunning? I mean, really. When you think of stunning, assuming that you might have thought about water-wheels for any reason in the last few hours, is something like this not what you imagine? We live here and we sat there on the patio of this little winery and marveled. “How are we so lucky? Why don’t we do this more often?” We had answers to neither question.
There were bees. I didn’t even care. Much. I didn’t scream at least, and that counts for plenty.
I like this photo. Although it suggest a quiet thoughtfulness that doesn’t exist. Not the thoughtfulness part, just the “quiet” part.
And this, this is why Himself doesn’t get to handle the camera very often, ’cause then pictures of me show up. And my constitution just can’t take that very often.