It isn’t always like that though. Most of the time it blends in, doesn’t make a fuss about itself. It’s settled in, by the creek, nowhere to go, putting down roots.
I noticed it last year as I drove by, distracted by my important life with somewhere important to go to.
But the tree was patient, never gave up, probably never even thought about sticking out to me, let alone to anyone. The thing is, this lone tree is beautiful whether we notice it or not.
Brancaia, about the comings and goings of important wine critics. Some are trees in the forest and some are bright red walls. Others are not. But they bring to us the possibility to enjoy something beautiful and wholesome and, whether there is a score or not, something that augments our life and makes it better.
That’s a perfect role for a critic, isn’t it? Simply to point out what has been there for a while and tell us to stop and enjoy the beauty of the moment.
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