Soft soils and cool mornings. Wine is civilization, and has been since time immemorial. To walk through the vineyard in the cool of the early morning has been a part of the human experience for as long as there has been what could reasonably be called humanity. The Russian River wanders west on its seaward...
Fire on the Vines North of the ruddy Golden Gate, past the scruffy, hunched and sea-battered shoulders of Marin where the great, breaking swells of turbulent land sink back into the California dirt and roll gently inland towards the flat and sleeping heartland of America, lies the Russian River valley. Along her banks, on hill...
Winter on the vine. Cutting east from Sonoma to Napa along the Carneros Highway, we pull into the parking lot for a winery just about to close. Two friends, my wife and I enjoy just a taste of some great wine and a few laughs before heading back into the winter wine country gloaming. I...
