Sunday, November 24, 2024

End of harvest notes: "So, where we at?"

“Are you still doing your wine blog?” I cannot tell you how many times I’ve heard that lately. Usually followed by “For some reason, I haven’t been getting them.” Which was news to me, as I hadn’t realized that I was “sending” them to anyone. Maybe once upon a time, Blogger had a process by which that happened, But if they did, long ago they stopped that. And seeing as I am not invested in technologically figuring out how to deliver my weekly blog to folks, I’m a bit bewildered. Actually, it doesn’t really matter to me. It is a web-log, after all. It is something I do as a weekly exercise, for myself. Anything beyond that is gravy.

Not that I am not grateful for the folks who read On the wine trail in Italy, some now for almost 19 years. But in today’s atmosphere, there is too much distraction from really important things for one to remember to check in on this little ‘ol blog, which is less about wine and Italy and more often about whatever is happening right in front of my eyes.

Which leads me to the larger path I am on. For almost sixty years I have had a camera in between me and that path, and I’ve been lucky enough to capture what are, to me, some meaningful images that, again, for me, seem to have transcended time and place. And now that I am approaching that random moment, I am working on a book, of sorts, in which some of the most significant images I will be assembling into a book. It’s part of a project I am tentatively calling “2025-1965 In Retrospect.”

This rumination got started when I was at a cocktail party for a couple who just moved. They are wine lovers and aficionados. Great wine was flowing, from JJ Prum to Clos de Vougeot to Corton Charlemagne to Mouton Rothschild. It was a veritable who’s who of great wine and winemaking.

I found  myself trying everything but the riesling hit the spot for me. A 23-year-old Spätlese that was still vibrant. But that was beside the point. At this stage in my life, wine just isn’t the center of it. If fact, now that I look back on my career in wine, I feel a little embarrassed that it took so much time and energy. At the time I felt I was on a mission to bring Italian (and other fine) wine to the world. Now it seems like a bit of wine folly to have magnified that quest (and my role in it!) to be so virtuous. Silly me. It was a livelihood, and it was lively. But was it really what life is all about?

My friend at the reception took me aside, where we reminisced. “I don’t miss work,” she admitted. And while I’m still slightly engaged in the wine biz ( ever so slightly) I understand that. It’s as if we have to seem to be relevant in this world, and the work we do is one of those things that makes us valid and whole. Looking at the world as it stands now, nothing that I did left enough of a mark, an impression, to have averted the little disasters that we’ve witnessed of late. And what we’ve seen might just have been previews of coming attraction even more pernicious.

So, that’s where I’m at. I plan on writing this blog for another year and get to 20 years. At which time I’ll re-evaluate any further going on. It’s been fun, it is now a deeply ingrained habit, writing weekly. But I’m not sure where it will go from there. If anywhere. Pop a bottle you’ve been saving for too long. Empty your cellars. As Pablo Neruda once said, “You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.”

wine blog +  Italian wine blog + Italy W

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