We’ll start back easy. Following an office metaphor, we’re in the kitchen. People mill about, laughing, cups of tea and coffee in hand. There’s a shared reluctance to buckle down and produce. Someone pulls out their cellphone and shows vacation photos. I’ll play her, and give you an easy-going account of a trip to wine country. Sonoma, to be precise, with my daughter.
And wine salts.
And a redhead, wearing new shoes her mother gave her, and sunglasses chosen by her Brooklyn brother.
We went for the wine and cheese pairing, even though it was 11am. They threw some chocolate in for good measure. I approved. The syrah was my favorite.
We wandered out to the deck, an hour or so later, past one of California’s signature oaks,
…to see the dormant lavender. And let our blood alcohol level subside.
We sat in wooden chairs. The winter light in California is beautiful.
The grasses soak it up.
And as one does, we felt hungry, and took a breath, and drove to the town of Sonoma. I recommend it. A lovely town square without drama, except the occasional red car. And the lives of its inhabitants, but they were very quiet.
And then, floating along on the day and some pumpkin french toast, we drove home again.
It was like the times of just us together, wandering sidewalks. Take away the stroller of course, add a capacity for adult conversation. and someone else to carry whatever needs carrying.