Up, Up, And Away

Wow, here I go. All that planning, talking the talk, telling my story, it’s boiling down to the hairy here and now. Often, in sorting, packing, schlepping, cursing, despairing of ever getting all my stuff to the other side of the state by Sunday, I feel like I’m circling the drain. But a friend gave me this card, saying it reminded her of me, and yes indeedy, if I get my head up out of the dust and bubble wrap, it does remind me of myself.

Sunday I’ll drive, with Annie’s splendid help, over Snoqualmie Pass, across the high desert, down along the Columbia River, then cross the Snake River and head into the golden wheat fields and lush vineyards surrounding Walla Walla. Monday we’ll unload the truck. Tuesday I have my first class: Forklift Operator Training. And I just got an email that the first grapes will be picked and processed on Tuesday as well, earlier than ever before, and that I should arrive at College Cellars in closed toe, waterproof shoes, and be prepared to get sticky. Ok, now I know I’m not in Kansas anymore.

Untethered, heading away from home, getting closer to the sun but prepared for weather, kicking up my heels, trusting myself to the updraft, eyes on the prize, that’s me. Or as close to me as a little girl in a slip of a dress, crossing the wide, blue skies can ever be.

Explore posts in the same categories: Becoming A Winemaker

Tags: Starting Over, Widowhood, Wine

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