My fingers trace your every outline
Paint a picture with my hands
Swaying back and forth like branches in a storm
Change of weather still together when it ends…
Song lyrics that were running through my mind as I sat quietly on my couch Sunday morning. The television so low that it might as well have been on mute, or better yet off. A neighbor’s often annoying wind chimes providing just the right tone as they danced upon the same breeze that was slipping through the rips in my jeans. The blue sky visible from my perch and the voices of people playing in the pool; the laughter, the splashing, the metal gate opening and closing….the sounds of summer acting as a soundtrack to this one moment. This much needed, freaking ached for moment of peace and utter contentment was so quietly powerful, so beautifully gentle…..so appreciated that it took a minute for me to notice I was holding my breath.
It was if I was terrified that if I moved, anyone moved or I took a breath that it would be gone. This feeling, this not so quiet, quiet would be gone just as quickly as it had snuck up on me and I was simply not ready to let it go. I sat still, allowing myself to take long, slow, deep, chest filling breaths of air. Finding something soothing and uplifting in the way my chest seemed to time each release of my held in breath with the breeze that was swaying the chimes and rustling the leaves on the tree that sits just outside my window.
That may be all I need
In darkness he is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
I may never want to leave….
My eyes slowly closing, lyrics gliding in and out of my head, the sound of summer providing the music to go along with it…..my mind letting go of all the wondering, the stress, the missing of things I don’t have and letting me dream. Fantasize about being in France, about being curled up on a hammock with someone I love….listening to his laugh, feeling my head rise and fall with his every breath as it rests upon his chest. Dream of a million more moments like the ones I had Friday night and Saturday afternoon, suspended in the bubble of admiration and adoration that is that of a customer’s face, a person that will forever understand wine on a level that they may never have had it not been for you. First kisses. First hugs. The touch of someone that has known and been in love with you….forever. Each one resting sweetly upon my heaving right along with the wind chest. Absolute happiness, I was being enveloped in absolute happiness and was feeling mighty fine.
Swaying back and forth like branches in a storm
Change of weather still together when it ends…
Song lyrics that were running through my mind as I sat quietly on my couch Sunday morning. The television so low that it might as well have been on mute, or better yet off. A neighbor’s often annoying wind chimes providing just the right tone as they danced upon the same breeze that was slipping through the rips in my jeans. The blue sky visible from my perch and the voices of people playing in the pool; the laughter, the splashing, the metal gate opening and closing….the sounds of summer acting as a soundtrack to this one moment. This much needed, freaking ached for moment of peace and utter contentment was so quietly powerful, so beautifully gentle…..so appreciated that it took a minute for me to notice I was holding my breath.
It was if I was terrified that if I moved, anyone moved or I took a breath that it would be gone. This feeling, this not so quiet, quiet would be gone just as quickly as it had snuck up on me and I was simply not ready to let it go. I sat still, allowing myself to take long, slow, deep, chest filling breaths of air. Finding something soothing and uplifting in the way my chest seemed to time each release of my held in breath with the breeze that was swaying the chimes and rustling the leaves on the tree that sits just outside my window.
That may be all I need
In darkness he is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
I may never want to leave….
My eyes slowly closing, lyrics gliding in and out of my head, the sound of summer providing the music to go along with it…..my mind letting go of all the wondering, the stress, the missing of things I don’t have and letting me dream. Fantasize about being in France, about being curled up on a hammock with someone I love….listening to his laugh, feeling my head rise and fall with his every breath as it rests upon his chest. Dream of a million more moments like the ones I had Friday night and Saturday afternoon, suspended in the bubble of admiration and adoration that is that of a customer’s face, a person that will forever understand wine on a level that they may never have had it not been for you. First kisses. First hugs. The touch of someone that has known and been in love with you….forever. Each one resting sweetly upon my heaving right along with the wind chest. Absolute happiness, I was being enveloped in absolute happiness and was feeling mighty fine.
I was brought back to earth, my lust and lips still tingling from their visits, by a neighbor in need of a screwdriver…the “crossy” one. Tool lent and me feeling almost drunk trying to put aside raspy dreamt up chuckles, admiring faces and memory of a slippery, warm lip between my teeth, I stumbled to the kitchen. There were two wines that were in dire need of a shelf talker and a palate… spirit that was in need of focus.
Sunday morning rain is falling
Steal some cover share some skin
Clouds have shrouded us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
But things just get so crazy
Living life gets so hard to do
I would gladly get up and go if I knew….
That someday it would lead me back to you
That someday it would lead me back to you
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
I may never want to leave….
With the “snap” of the neck and the pop of a “cork” (synthetic) two little white wines whet my lust longing whistle and lent their tiny price tags to the inexpensive, pleasure giving nature of my Sunday morning. Pleasure. Pleasure that is simple….simple to get and even simpler to surrender to.
2009 Domaine du Tariquet Classic
Ugni Blanc and Colombard blend from the uber fancy Gascogne region of France…yeah just typing that little factoid might have yucked my yum if this wine was not so freaking delicious. Nervy and not hidden by cumbersome oak this wine is just dead sexy with vibrant fruit. Ripe, succulent summer melon with a blast of zesty citrus rind and the kind of acid that makes my flesh all bumpily. Swinging on a hammock, raspy chuckle and my aching to be kissed lips finding relief as this wine shook its stuff across my palate, damn.
2009 Domaine de Bidalere Cotes de Gascogne Blanc
Grassy, tart and vibrating with citrus this is a wine for the lovers of zing. The nose is reminiscent of green apple skin, the way its tanginess makes your mouth water. The way even the sight of it, the “crunch” assures you that what you are about to swallow is fresh, taught and going to fall back upon your palate not gently or smoothly, it’s going to wrap its tang around your tongue and be unshakably “there”. Make you ache and reach for just one more sip….
So I drove slow on Sunday morning. Let my desire and the not-so-silent silence cradle me, swallow me up and I allowed two succulent wines that sell for ten bucks tickle me. Thrill me and remind me that the very best things in life are, or are damned near….free.
2009 Domaine du Tariquet Classic
Ugni Blanc and Colombard blend from the uber fancy Gascogne region of France…yeah just typing that little factoid might have yucked my yum if this wine was not so freaking delicious. Nervy and not hidden by cumbersome oak this wine is just dead sexy with vibrant fruit. Ripe, succulent summer melon with a blast of zesty citrus rind and the kind of acid that makes my flesh all bumpily. Swinging on a hammock, raspy chuckle and my aching to be kissed lips finding relief as this wine shook its stuff across my palate, damn.
2009 Domaine de Bidalere Cotes de Gascogne Blanc
Grassy, tart and vibrating with citrus this is a wine for the lovers of zing. The nose is reminiscent of green apple skin, the way its tanginess makes your mouth water. The way even the sight of it, the “crunch” assures you that what you are about to swallow is fresh, taught and going to fall back upon your palate not gently or smoothly, it’s going to wrap its tang around your tongue and be unshakably “there”. Make you ache and reach for just one more sip….
So I drove slow on Sunday morning. Let my desire and the not-so-silent silence cradle me, swallow me up and I allowed two succulent wines that sell for ten bucks tickle me. Thrill me and remind me that the very best things in life are, or are damned near….free.
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