I seem to find myself walking around the house, the farm, the vineyard, the winery with this little smile on my face lately. The rush is behind me and the air is brisk and smelling oh so lovely. After a rain when I step outside, the fragrance of wet leaves permeates the air... leaves that are fallen, yet still spicy with the remembrance of life. The woods are opening up and welcoming me. This is the time of year that I can reclaim the forest and immerse myself in it without fear of ticks, snakes and all the other lifeforms that claim these woods as their own during the warm months. It is now when I can stroll amongst the tall poplars and mighty oaks, and crawl up on large rock outcroppings and sit and marvel at the intricate patterns of lichen wrapped tightly onto the rock upon which I sit. And I can study the shapes and follow with my finger the Bonzai-like torsion of Mountain Laurel branches that grow on the north and west facing slopes. Each tree is a work of art unique to itself. I find irresistible, the soft green moss that beckons me to crouch down and study the tiny tendrils that I suppose are seeds, that rise above as if a sentry to this tiny kingdom resting so close to the earth. It is so peaceful, so centering.
As I head into the vineyard I find myself smiling again... at the chickens pecking away in the soil that the sheep have massaged with their hooves. The kittens chase each other up, up, up a tree and wrap their front legs around the trunk, tails wagging in wide sweeps. How fortunate these kitties to experience the joy of such freedom.
Soon the rush of the holidays will be here and then we head into the new year when we will return to the vineyard and begin pruning the vines, setting the stage for yet another vintage... where hope always springs eternal. But for now, I am savoring this lull... my soft lullaby of life between the rush. And it is oh so sweet.
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