The Reasons Why I Love Wine
When I step out into a vineyard, I take one slow deep breath. My eyes take a panoramic pass over the landscape. Row upon row of vines line up like soldiers. Their geometric design softens into every curve of the earth. Sectioned blocks are laid down like a stitched quilt over the soil. There is an ethereal sense of place. A calmness, an assurance of identity. The vines stand still as they watch me try to read their story. ”In time,” they say softly, with an omniscient smile.
They leave nothing to hide, and everything to discover. ”Come closer,” they offer, “Come learn the reasons ‘why’.” As I focus my gaze I notice the mighty tendril; reaching, contorting, grasping with all of its might to grip the wire trellis. It knows it must grasp on, it must hold tight. A blind faith in its intuition tells it this is its life purpose; to hold on and support something it cannot see or touch yet. The weight of a grape cluster exists in the indeterminate future. But it does not matter. The tendril climbs on with unwavering confidence and trust in its purpose. No fear in how, no doubt in why.
One small tendril. Achieving a level of fulfillment humans only dream about.
The filtered sun through the leaves speckles my skin. Right after dawn or right before dusk is when the world opens its heart to you. It is a light so soft and peaceful that you cannot help but see the depth of beauty that surrounds you. It is the sun that paints the picturesque canvas of a vineyard. It is the sun that mentors the grape from flower to harvest; feeding it, building its character along the way. It is the sun who is the most overlooked yet most important winemaker of them all.
I love the sound of the leaves as an arm pushes them back to reveal the grapes. I love the soft give of freshly watered soil. I love the meticulous and artistic placement of each and every dew drop on one grape. I love the bitter crunch of the seed inside a grape’s sweet flesh. I love the stage of the viticulturist who is crouched down in the soil, hands gesticulating the life of the vine. Dirty fingernails sketch the invisible picture of past, present and future. It is a classroom where the Earth teaches the human.
When I am lucky enough to be alone and in the silence of dawn or dusk, I can hear the reasons ‘why’. I can hear them, see them, touch them, smell them. The transcendent beauty of the vineyard is equally hidden as it is completely exposed. All you need are the moments to notice it, the moments to feel it. In them, fancy stemware and linens and contrived egos gain distant importance.
Later, I sip the experience all over again.
These are the reasons why I love wine.