Archive for HAGARTY TALES
As time moves on so does one’s outlook
Three years ago, I was asked by the editor of my local paper to pen a monthly article on wine. She knew of my involvement in the Virginia wine industry and thought a lifestyle column on the subject would be of interest to her readers. I had never written commercially and embraced the offer; today, I have written for numerous state newspapers and magazines.
Almost simultaneous to my first columns, a friend suggested I create a website—which he offered to build—to archive my work and share with a larger audience. To date, I have posted 151 stories, short and long, focused mostly on wine.
But a feeling began emerging as I approached my thirty-six month of blogging. I began to run out of steam. I found it difficult to plow ground I had covered before. Yes, new Virginia wineries were opening almost every week and interesting owners and winemakers still made for fertile editorial ground.
Subject matter was not the issue. Ebbing passion was.
As I would hover over my keyboard, my mind would increasingly drift to other subject matter. Here and there I began to contribute articles for publication unrelated to wine. I knew it was time to evolve. This post launches that shift.
One subject I found intriguing was homebrewing. In 1979, it became legal to brew beer at home (legal home winemaking dates to the repeal of Prohibition in 1933.) Craft beer shares many of the same components of boutique wines. The variety is endless; and the aromas, tastes and food pairing possibilities offer enjoyment similar to wine.
In the wine industry, a common refrain heard at harvest time is, “It takes a lot of beer to make great wine,”referring to the beverage of choice for many hard working cellar employees. It is estimated there are one million homebrewers in the US today. I’ve written on the evolution of craft brewing.
But beer is just one of many interests. I am not shifting from wine to a beer centric theme. I will explore the people, places and events of the Old Dominion and most subject matter—except politics—will be fair game. And yes, I will continue to write on wine whenever an interesting story attracts me.
For those who have followed my writing, I thank you and ask that you continue to drop by from time to time to see what’s on my mind. To all readers, I suggest if there is a story that you believe has merit, let me know.
A blank Word document now sits before me. I can’t wait to get started.
Owner of Vinosity wine shop succeeds in tough economy
Some of the best business advice Kim Kelly ever received was also a compliment.
She was taking a wine tasting course in Georgetown when a fellow student suggested she work for the wine distribution firm where he was employed. He told her she had a good palate, “You should really consider applying for a job. I think you’d be great.”
“I had never done direct sales before and didn’t consider myself a wine expert. But the firm I was working for was going out of business so I said, ‘what the heck,’ and applied for the job. They hired me,” Kelly says. The new job turned out to be the springboard to a great career.
Today, Kelly is the proprietor of Vinosity, a popular wine shop in Culpeper and living in the Virginia Piedmont.
In 1990, Kelly worked for AARP in DC in its membership development office. A fellow worker decided to start her own firm focused on selling discounted services to women. She asked Kelly to join her. As with many startup firms, success was elusive and the underfunded enterprise eventually went out of business. But Kelly says, “It was a great experience because I was part of a new business and got in on the ground floor. I learned a lot.
Kim Kelly
“Making sure you’re setting realistic expectations and goals and managing the business is key. The company burned through a lot of money not realizing how quickly it goes. It gave me a good understanding of what it takes to make a business go.”
In 2000, building on what she learned in both direct marketing and the failed startup, she accepted the wine job offer and applied her palate skills and business acumen to becoming a successful wine sales rep. For eight years she was employed by a small distribution firm in Northern Virginia. The company’s portfolio included about 300 wines from boutique producers around the world; by comparison most major wine distribution firms have a “book” of 3,000 to 5,000 producers.
Her accounts were restaurants and wine shops. But she was selling high quality esoteric wines that most of her clients had never heard of. “I learned I had to be prepared. I became knowledgeable about my producers so I could tell their story. It was exciting but incredibly more challenging to convince someone to buy wine that they had never heard of and knew nothing about.
“I also researched my clients businesses. Doing your homework and being prepared are critical. It’s how you build respect and sales in this business,” Kelly emphasizes.
Part of her research involved an analysis of each account’s wine inventory, looking for opportunities to place her distinct wines where they would offer greater depth to an account’s portfolio.
“Overall I think consistency was the critical component of my success. I always arrived at appointments on time. I did my homework, researching both my wines and my customer’s needs. I knew each of my shops and restaurants business profile. I knew the palates of the managers and owners and what type of wines to offer them. I really was looking to see where the holes were and offering unique selections to fill the gap. It was fun and rewarding and led to my next career move,” says Kelly.
In 2005, Kelly and her husband moved to Madison,Virginia. The couple had been renting a house near White Oak Canyon for weekend getaways. “We both loved the country and were looking for a way to make a permanent move to a rural area. The traffic and congestion in Northern Virginia can wear you down. My husband telecommutes so we began thinking about relocating,” she says.
When the lease on their mountain hideaway was not renewed, it set the stage for the purchase of their home in Madison. Kelly quit her job in wine distribution and for six months acted as general contractor for their home’s renovation and expansion. “At first, I was ecstatic at not having to work. But after the house restoration was done I wanted to go back to work,” she recalls.
Serendipitously, her former employer asked in she could again cover The Inn at Little Washington. “The Inn was an important client and they had been unable to find a wine rep to cover it. I agreed to do it and to also build a customer base in the Culpeper to Charlottesville area. Within three years I was servicing some 30 new accounts. But the job involved a lot of driving. I was ready to move on again,” she says smiling.
In 2008, the former Culpeper wine shop Chateau du Reaux came up for sale. The owner was retiring and the small shop offered an opportunity for Kelly to transition to wine store owner. “The shop was perfect for me. It was small enough for me to get my hands around the inventory and located at an ideal location on Davis Street. We opened in the middle of the recession and I threw myself into building the business,” she says.
And build it she did. Within three years she had outgrown the small shop and relocated to larger quarters diagonally across the street on Davis Street. The doors of Vinosity opened in November, 2011. The business has grown 15% annually since 2008 through one of the most intractable recessions in recent memory.
“All of my previous business experience paid off when I opened Vinosity. I had learned how to build inventory—don’t go crazy—and how to keep your funds in control,” she says. Kelly also knew what to provide customers. Today, the wine shop offers more than 500 different selections, almost twice her original inventory. Some 200 of her offerings are priced at $15 or less.
The shop also features nearly 100 beer selections, a host of artisanal cheeses sliced to order, and a humidor of hand rolled cigars. Wine tastings are held twice a week on Fridays and Saturdays.
“I am very proud of what I’ve accomplished and super thrilled with the growth we’ve experienced. But the best part has been getting to know the community. It’s been an integral part of our success. Our core customers are local and are our biggest cheerleaders. Getting to know them and their palates and making wine recommendations has really been fun,” says Kelly.
Community: Kelly is a member of the Board of Directors of Culpeper Renaissance Inc. CRI promotes Culpeper’s downtown Virginia Main Street Program. She also serves as co-chair for Taste of Culpeper, an annual wine, food and crafts festival held every October.
Insider Information:“My advice to women in business is the same as for men. Know your customers. Be consistent. Be reliable. Do your research. Work hard. The basics are really the key to success. Learn what your customers want and then provide it.
“When customers come to trust you and your knowledge success will follow.”
Flaming Beauty
Published in the Fall 2012 edition of the Piedmont Business Journal.
Almost two years after restoration reviews confirm expectations
On October 29, 2010, a party—literally—of over fifty PATC members and friends dedicated Argow Cabin, located just outside the South District of the Shenandoah National Park, a mile hike west from milepost 70. The festivities of speeches, pork bar-b-que and hay rides culminated a five-year restoration project.
Standing on the covered porch that bright fall day, many of the attendees predicted the cabin would become a favorite of the outdoor cognoscenti. The thirty mile views from the side porch alone seemed to clinch that conclusion.
Argow Cabin Today
As the second anniversary of the cabin’s entry into the club’s rental system approaches, one need only flip through the log book or check out its availability on the PATC website to confirm its popularity. Let’s hope Travel & Leisure magazine doesn’t discover this place.
And what makes the cabin a magical spot to stay? Its natural beauty and history dating back to the Civil War. Samuel Eaton, the builder and first occupant of the cabin lived in the tumultuous era of the War Between the States. Time obscures what role Eaton played in the conflict but to gaze at the hand-hewn 13 inch thick chestnut logs is to look back at a time when a man’s success was often achieved by back breaking labor.
The restoration project is all the more remarkable when one views a photograph hanging inside the cabin taken in the early 1990s. The three story building had been abandoned for years and looked more like a decaying tobacco curing barn—with partial chinking and listing on its crumbling foundation—than a snug mountaineer’s cabin. Its days were numbered as the forest slowly closed in on all sides.
Then, two serendipitous actions occurred: the property was sold to the club at a favorable price by Keith Argow, a professional forester. And club member Jeff Testerman agreed to lead the restoration project. Testerman, a commercial construction project manager in Charlottesville, engaged his exceptional management and building skills to save the cabin.
One weekend a month for over five years, Testerman organized a group of some fifteen volunteers to slowly bring the cabin back to life. Given its location high on the evening side of the Blue Ridge, it required a steep ascent up a narrow, winding dirt road to reach the site. One transmission and an endless number of scratches on the crew’s vehicles were part of the project’s unfunded cost.
But on dedication day, only satisfied memories and a sense of accomplishment reigned among the work party.
So what has been the reaction among club members and the public since the cabin opened? PATC is in a unique position to assess renters’ experience through the evaluation of the cabin log books.
The journals are a throw back to the days when the written word prevailed everywhere. Today, it’s seldom one can read a diary-like journal of a person’s thoughts on living the outdoor life. There is a bit of Henry David Thoreau in all of us and his words resonate today for those seeking to briefly escape the stresses of modern society:
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived,” he wrote. Amen.
Soon after Argow was dedicated, an occupant penned these words in the log, “What a great job on this cabin. There were some veteran PATC cabin-goers in our group and many times over the weekend it was mentioned Argow is one of our favorites.”
A month later, some winter visitors recorded, “The Drive was closed (snow), so we backpacked in the six miles from the park entrance. Wow—what a beautiful cabin. We were so impressed with the quality in the renovation, the beautiful covered porch and the unbelievable view!”
The log book is replete with similar observations since the cabin became available for rent.
Testerman has continued on as the cabin’s overseer and says, “It’s gratifying to read the comments of folks staying at Argow. Yes, it was a lot work and toward the end our crew was eager to wrap the project up. But to see what was gifted back to the club is rewarding. I hope this mountain jewel is still sheltering visitors decades from now.”
Anyone who has stayed at Argow cabin echoes his hope.
Published in the August 2012 edition of the The Potomac Appalachian.
Argow Cabin View
The Wine Guy Adds Brewer to His Resume
Its ten o’clock on a late September evening as I slip down to my dark wine cellar to observe white wines in late-stage fermentation.
As I shine a beam of light across the neck of a carboy, I stand in awe. A gazillion bubbles race up the sides and into the top of the six gallon glass jug. The air lock bubbles away. The exuberance of primeval fermentation transfixes me.
Boiling the wort
Fermentation has been used by man for thousands of years to make bread, cheese, yogurt, pickles, beer and wine. Essentially the action converts a carbohydrate such as sugar into an acid or alcohol. Eons ago earliest man harnessed this natural process to produce foods and beverages near to his heart. I relate to my ancestors’ ardor for the magic-like transformative process.
For eight years I have been a home winemaker. I’ve produced over 4,000 bottles of wine in my humble wine cellar. It’s an endeavor framed by challenge and satisfaction. To take fruit from the field and produce a libation that satisfies both body and spirit is rewarding. And it’s fun.
For a like period of time I have also been a home bread maker and its obvious derivative, pizza maker. My children and their families are known to clamor, “Dad, make your pizza when we come over tonight.” Not a problem.
Enter beer. Over the last two years, I have been a member of a local hiking club called Boots ‘n Beer. Its motto is “A drinking club with a hiking problem.” The group roams the trails of nearby Shenandoah National Park monthly. At the end of each ramble, we adjourn to a local pub to hoist a pint or two and have dinner.
While wine is my passion, the pub visits ignited an interest in microbrewed beers: Amber ale, Stout, Pilsner, India pale ale, American wheat, Bock, Porter, Vienna lager…the list is endless. I recognized a parallel between wine and beer. Both possess an incredible scope of styles and flavors. And both are produced by fermentation.
One reason for my previous low interest in beer was the bland and watery taste of most popular brands. Leading beer makers today produce light lagers that appeal to the widest audience. Unfortunately for me, they are boring; a grievous sin when it comes to alcohol consumption. Give me body, depth, complexity and variety over easy drinking any day.
Why Light Beers
Let’s digress a moment to better understand why Americans consume such large amounts of uninteresting beer. Granted, it’s refreshing. And given its lower alcohol content, it can be consumed in larger quantities. But volume consumption is not my thing. Flavor appreciation is.
The state of current consumption tracks back to the repeal of prohibition in 1933. After thirteen years of the “Noble Experiment”, only a few major breweries were still operating; they had survived by producing malted products for the food industry. Thousands of small brewers had long gone out of business and their equipment fallen into disuse.
After Repeal, the major breweries sought to produce a product appealing to the largest audience possible, including women. When World War II began, a significant percentage of the male population were overseas defending freedom, leaving women to run the factories and calling the shots on what type of beer they preferred. The production of light and innocuous beer exploded. When the men returned, the pattern was established for easy drinking lagers; think Bud, Coors and Miller type beers.
Further abetting the decline of interesting beer was an oversight in repealing prohibition that did not permit home beermaking. Not until 1979 was the error corrected and homebrewers emerged as a force. In the ensuing three decades these talented—mostly men—created the microbrew market. Today, some 2,000 craft breweries are operating throughout the country and they are growing faster than the major producers; most are run by former home brewers. The movement is analogous to the dramatic increase in small wineries being run by previous home winemakers.
Homebrewing
Once the beer making bug bit, I jumped in full force. I purchased the equipment I needed such as a brew pot, bottling pail, capper and beer bottles. Other items such as a hydrometer and carboy came from my winemaking supplies. Making beer is not difficult but close attention to cleanliness is paramount. Fresh brewed beer is highly susceptible to bacterial infection. Cleanliness is next to beeriness.
To date I have brewed six different styles: Amber ale, American wheat, Oatmeal stout,Vienna lager,India pale ale, and Rye pale ale. Two more versions of ale are in the offing. In the months ahead, I will share my experiences in producing fresh, delicious and healthful homebrewed beer.
“Filled with mingled cream and amber I will drain that glass again. Such hilarious visions clamber through the chambers of my brain—quaintest thoughts—queerest fancies come to life and fade away; who cares how time advances? I am drinking ale today.” Edgar Allan Poe
Turning the Corner on Winter with Old Friends & Mountain Trails
Take seven friends, fifteen miles of mountain trails, a cabin built in 1933, and late winter weather serving as a backdrop, and you’ll find a cure for any wintry blues that might be obscuring your life view.
And oh, throw in a couple of strangers to further brighten things up.
Son-in-law Drew & the old man
So it was on March, 2, 3 and 4, that I spent a rewarding three days in the Shenandoah National Park. I’ve been backpacking for over two decades. It began as a defensive measure when my four teenage children began to lose interest in Dad’s car and cabin camping trips and discovered girlfriends, boyfriends and cars. The great outdoors fell by the wayside as the young’uns got on with their lives.
During warmer months my trips are exclusively tenting events. But when winter comes round, a snug cabin after a full day on the trail is captivating. And it’s an indulgence easily acted upon by renting one of the numerous rustic cabins maintained by the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club.
Range View Cabin
In early January, I reserved Range View Cabin in the North District of the SNP and issued a clarion call to my backpacking friends to join me; seven of them responded and the March trip was on.
The long weekend was divided into two parts. Since I’m retired I elected to escape into the forest on Friday morning and was joined by another retiree who has logged many trail miles with me over the years. We drove up Skyline Drive to milepost 22, parked, and hiked a mile to the cabin. Securing our backpacks inside, we grabbed light day backs and headed out for a seven mile mountain loop, arriving back at the stone dwelling around 4 p.m.
As we approached our lodging, voices and barking dogs broke the mountain silence. Who are these people hangin’ round our humble abode, I wondered.
“How are you guys doing,” the stranger said. We’re doing just fine I thought, but what about you two?
Not so good. Two friends, ably prepared to complete their day’s backpack, were overtaken by adverse weather four miles short of their destination. Windy, pelting, cold rain is not conducive to enjoyable hiking as dusk is falling; especially after having already logged ten hard miles on the trail. It was serendipitous they passed our cabin just as we were arriving.
Trail Break
“Would you mind if we spent the night on your cabin porch?” one of the hikers inquired. Hmmm. Moment of truth. I had two more friends joining us that evening so the eight person cabin could accommodate more people. But strangers? Instinct took over as I quickly assessed that the two trekers were solid citizens. “You’re in luck, we have room, come on in,” I said.
Later, when my friends arrived, an evening of warm camaraderie unfolded on the cabin porch as friends and strangers quickly became comrades. It didn’t hurt that our best new buddies—former military men—indulged in libations and stogies, a trait not often found among the outdoor set but one our crew engages in on every trip. Yep, outlaw backpackers, that’s us. And we happened to have run across two of our own. Sweet.
The next morning we parted with the two men and drove down to the morning side of the valley to meet the rest of our band. At 10am, eight hikers split into two groups at the traihead; one ascending Little Devil Stairs and the other the Keyser Run Trail. Two hours later we reassembled and group hiked the remaining four miles to the cabin. Cobalt blue skies and a fresh breeze driven by a cold front pushed the rain off to the east creating stunning views of the Shenandoah Valley below.
Saturday evening was a reprise of Friday’s celebration, sans our two newest mates. Old friends engaged in an evening of conversation, catching up with our lives since we had last gathered. The second evening was not a late one with the tired band hitting sleeping bags around 9 o’clock for a night of sound sleep.
We awoke Sunday morning to temperatures in the mid-twenties, prepared breakfast, packed up and hit the trail by nine. Our descent back to the cars was via the Piney Ridge and Hull School trails and included one dicey stream crossing. No one took a plunge, thankfully, and by noon we were bidding each other our goodbyes with promises of future trips to come.
To pull on a pair of hiking boots, throw a pack up on your back and wander over mountains trails with boon companions is the soul of a satisfying experience. It’s a primeval adventure in many ways, pulling you back to the essence of life.
Good friends. They’re hard to find, difficult to leave and impossible to forget.
Our stalwart group absent photographer Bob
Is It Located In Napa, Burgundy, or Bordeaux?
Here in Virginia a typical tasting room might host a few thousand to perhaps 40,000 tasters a year. A lot of sipping is occurring in the Old Dominion, indeed, but it’s difficult to imagine the traffic generated by the major wineries in California who annually see hundreds of thousands of wine lovers hoist a glass at their tasting bars.
Nonetheless, where might the most frequently visited winery on the globe be located?
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
Time’s up. The answer is…North Carolina. Say what? Yep, North Carolina.
Tasting Room
According to the Biltmore Estate Winery in Ashville, NC, “…approximately 1 million visitors stop by to sample award-winning estate wines each year.” One million. How can this be? There are about a 100 wineries in the entire state, ranking it tenth in the Nation. California posts the number one position with over 3,000 wineries.
The secret to the Biltmore’s success is a house—called simply, you guessed it, the Biltmore House. Let’s visit its web site and hear the story:
The celebrated architect Richard Morris Hunt modeled the house on three châteaux built in 16th-century France. It would feature 4 acres of floor space, 250 rooms, 34 bedrooms, 43 bathrooms, and 65 fireplaces. The basement alone would house a swimming pool, gymnasium and changing rooms, bowling alley, servants’ quarters, kitchens, and more.
The chateau was finished in 1895 after several years’ construction and is a bona fide wonder of the world. In 1985, the estate dairy barn was converted to a winery and tasting room capable of hosting over a hundred tasters simultaneously at five separate islands. And it is packed every day. It’s impressive in concept and size and is in keeping with the scope of the House and the surrounding 8,000 manicured acres.
Recently, my bride of many years, Jean, and I spent a week in the mountains of North Carolina at a delightful venue called Lake Lure. It’s less than an hour’s drive from the Biltmore House in Asheville. We devoted an entire day to touring the estate and winery. It was festively decorated for Christmas displaying 57 Christmas trees, four miles of fresh garlands and tens of thousands of lights and ornaments. Rather than describe the impressive house tour we took, simply check out this video:
http://www.biltmore.com/videos/
After spending over two hours at the House, we drove three miles of scenic lanes to the winery where we tasted Biltmore wines, had lunch and shopped in Antler Hill Village, an upscale suite of shops with a petting farm of friendly goats, horses and other pastoral animals.
I also had an opportunity to interview one of the senior tasting room personnel.
While the web site states a million visitors a year taste the wines it’s likely a bit less. Not every one who tours the House is going to sip the wine. Whatever the number, it’s still impressive. The winery produces some 200,000 cases of wine a year. Surprisingly, about 85% of that production comes from fruit or wine from California,Washington state and Oregon. Over forty different bottlings are produced annually, the majority of which are Chardonnay, Viognier, Riesling, Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon.
If you haven’t visited Biltmore House, it’s well worth the trip. The region has many quaint towns with antique shops, art galleries, beautiful golf courses and numerous other sightseeing opportunities all of which make it a memorable getaway destination.
The North Carolina state motto is Esse quam videri; To be, rather than to seem. The Tar Heel state certainly seems to be all it wants to be.
Biltmore House
VDOT Sponsored Effort Keeps Highways & Byways Green
America the Beautiful. Originally written as a poem in 1895—and later published as the iconic anthem in 1910—the song has come to embody the stunningly beautiful USA landscape.
Now You See It...
And yet the challenge in keeping the “Beautiful” in America is daunting. With a population of 310 million citizens and over eight million miles of roads, litter is ubiquitous along the Nation’s thoroughfares. Here in Virginia, plastic bags, beer bottles & cans and fast food detritus aggressively compete with Spring’s colorful Redbud and Dogwood for roadside presence.
It’s difficult to grasp why littering occurs. How does anyone in good conscience roll down their window and toss garbage onto an artist’s palette? Ignorance? Indifference? Entitlement?
Who knows. It simply happens.
Fortunately, all fifty states have created volunteer programs to assist in keeping its highway systems clean. In Virginia, the Virginia Department of Transportation sponsors our statewide effort. Last year, volunteers contributed 31,800 hours of their time collecting 26,300 bags of trash, while scouring over 1,900 miles of highway. Not only are Old Dominion roads more scenic because of their efforts, but state coffers are given some relief in this era of budgetary cuts.
...Now You Don't.
Rappahannock Cellars contributes in a small way to the enormous effort. For the past five years, the winery has volunteered to maintain three miles of Route 522 in the immediate area of its tasting room.
On a recent sunny April weekday, management and staff from the winery collected twenty-five bright orange bags of trash. Marketing Manager Allan Delmare says, “Its a bit crazy to claim we had fun collecting trash. But honestly, it’s not the nasty job you’d imagine it is. You’re outside on a nice day making a noticeable impact on something you drive by every morning. Our commitment to preserving Virginia’s farmland through sustainable agriculture doesn’t end at our vineyard fence. Besides, it’s rewarding to look down that long stretch of highway and see green roadsides.”
Green indeed. Not only for the trash collectors but for the wayfarers traveling through beautiful Rappahannock County.
For individuals or groups considering adopting a stretch of Virginia highway, visit VDOT’s web site. Or call 1-800-FOR-Road (1-800-367-7623). Once you’ve submitted an application and VDOT approves it, signs will be placed on the highway crediting your group with the adoption. You will obtain safety vests and collection bags from your local VDOT office.
So are immediately cleaner roads the only benefit to the program? Not entirely. Research has shown that maintained highways produce less litter in the long run. And seeing volunteers at work along the roads often makes motorists think twice before carelessly discarding trash.
So grab those orange bags. “America the Beautiful” is your song to sing.
The Orange Brigade
Backpacking Maven Assembles His Faithful Followers
The packs are hoisted on the backs…hip belts cinched tight…hiking staffs clutched firmly in hand. Then a voice calmly announces, “Pace yourself gentlemen. It’s a 2,500 foot elevation gain in the first four miles.”
Hmmm…2,500 feet? Hey, wait a minute, that’s equal to climbing the Washington Monument almost five times. And we each have about forty pounds on our backs.
“Commander” Testerman has not changed his evil—but enjoyable—ways. Welcome back to the fold.
Jeff Testerman
I’ve posted articles over the past few years about Jeff Testerman, the driving force behind the restoration of a civil war era cabin located just outside the park boundaries of the Shenandoah National Park, or SNP, near Elkton, Virginia.
The volunteer project took over five years of weekend work to complete and pulled Mr. T and his disciples away from their first love, backpacking. When the cabin was finally placed into the rental system of the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club, or PATC, last October, Jeff vowed to hit the trail again.
His first trip was last November and my schedule precluded joining his band of weekend mountain men. But when one of his emails hit my inbox last month announcing another adventure, I locked in the dates and began preparing for the ramble.
For years, Jeff had been encouraging me to hang up my heavy external frame pack and go with a modern internal frame backpack. I couldn’t bring myself to part with my old mate, dubbed “The Refrigerator” by those who hiked behind me. But time, and an increasingly cranky body, finally convinced me to switch gear. It was the best backpacking decision I had made in years.
Gregory Internal Frame Pack
The new pack—a Gregory Baltoro 70—is lighter, more flexible and fits like its grafted onto your back. Hiking with this beauty almost makes you forget you’re carrying anything.
Most of our group spent the first night at the PATC’s Tulip Tree Cabin on the edge of the SNP near Luray, Virginia. The next morning we were joined by a few more friends. When we left the cabin at 9:30 AM, ten trampers headed up the mountain. We started hiking up Crusher Ridge Trail—aptly named—and ascended to the Appalachian Trail, or AT. There, we moved south along the AT to Little Stony Man Mountain and enjoyed a lunch break with superb views on a mild winter day.
Rest Break
An hour later, we were gazing out over the Shenandoah Valley from the peak of Stony Man Mountain, 4,000 quiet feet above the maddening chase below. The steady trail chatter heard throughout the morning subsided as we gazed out over the valley. Only a soft breeze and silence embraced us.
The Summit
From there, we dropped down and crossed over Skyline Drive and descended the Corbin Hollow Trail on the morning side of the Blue Ridge. Later in the afternoon we picked up the Indian Run Trail, arriving at the PATC Corbin Cabin around 4 PM.
Corbin Cabin
The rustic dwelling was built in 1910 by twenty-one year old mountaineer George Corbin. A framed history of the cabin is mounted on the wall with details of his hard life, including the death of his wife in childbirth. After he buried her in a cemetery behind his home, he walked several miles through a snowy landscape to purchase milk for his new born child. It’s difficult to appreciate how harsh life was in certain parts of Virginia less than a century ago.
That evening our intrepid band was joined by a comrade who’s schedule did not permit her hiking the entire weekend. An enjoyable evening of libations and camaraderie came to a close around 10 PM as the tired crew hit the rack for a night of sound sleep.
The following morning we climbed 1,500 feet up the Nicholson Hollow Trail, crossing back over Skyline Drive and down Crusher Ridge. The “crush” had been taken out of the trail as we descended two and one half miles straight down to Tulip Tree Cabin, where we had begun the day before, a total of fifteen miles of backpacking under our belts.
Half of our band bid the group adieu and headed back to civilization while the rest of us spent a quiet afternoon sitting outside the cabin, swapping stories and listening to bluegrass music on one of the truck’s stereo system. An early dinner was followed by a 9 PM bunk crash. And get this, everybody slept soundly once again.
Tulip Tree Cabin
“Commander” Testerman has warned us that another mountain assault will occur within the next few months so I think my neighborhood walks will continue unabated. Throwing a pack up on your back requires a wee bit of conditioning. But it’s an investment with a ten fold rate of return.
Corbin Cabin
Five Year Project Provides 19th Century Respite for 21st Century Souls
Last year, I wrote a short piece on a volunteer project sponsored by the Potomac Application Trail Club, or PATC, to restore a cabin built over a hundred and fifty years ago and long abandoned. The cabin is located on the evening side of the Blue Ridge Mountains six miles souteast of Elkton, VA. On October 23 of this year, the dwelling was officially dedicated and placed into the club’s rental system.
Argow Cabin 1999
With nature grinding away at it, the structure did not have many years left before exposure to the elements would have seen it collapse and slowly return to the mountain soil from which it had risen. But today, its future is secured for decades to come, hopefully much longer. We can thank, in part, the almost indestructible Chestnut tree logs and a tin roof for its past and future longevity.
But we also need to thank the driving force behind the restoration effort, Jeff Testerman. Testerman is a superintendent with a large commercial construction firm in Charlottesville, VA. He used his considerable skills—assisted by a loyal group of some fifteen volunteers—to plan, manage and restore the structure to its original condition and more. The new side deck with a fireplace and sweeping views of the Shenandoah Valley would have been much appreciated by the cabin’s original owner, Samuel Eaton.
Eaton was born around 1828 and married in 1861, after he had built the cabin. The couple had two sons. He died in 1896 and is buried in Elkton. Mountain living in the mid-1800s was challenging. Even the most basic of supplies required long trips into the valley to buy flour, sugar, coffee and other staples. The last full time residents of the cabin left in the 1960s and the building began its long, slow decline. It did receive some comfort on occasion when hunters took refuge in its decaying shell during deer season.
The official name of the log home today is Argow Cabin. Keith Argow, with a résumé in forestry and conservation, sold the cabin and 200 acres to PATC in the 1990s and contributed initial funds to launch the restoration effort. Argow had the vision to see how history could be brought back to life and the club named the cabin in his honor.
There are thousands of historical properties scattered across the country but few that allow visitors to do more than briefly visit and leave. Yes, you can still sleep in Lincoln’s bedroom in the White House, but knowing the President and making a sizable campaign contribution would greatly boost your chances of bringing your toothbrush and pajamas and staying the night. Imagine sleeping over at Monticello, Lee’s Mansion, or Mount Vernon. Not a chance.
Argow Cabin Today
But that’s not the case with Argow cabin. PATC members can rent the cabin for a weekend rate of $45 a night and weekdays for just $35. Not a budget breaker given the cost of lodging today. But a cautionary note. This is a rustic property with the emphasis on rustic; there is no electricity, no indoor bathrooms, a seasonal spring and your fridge is that insulated lunch bag you carried in with you. Oh, and if I failed to mention it, you need to hike in just under a mile a mile to reach the front door.
Yes, history comes with a bit of physical inconvenience. But the rewards of getting reacquainted with yourself, loved ones or friends are multitudinous. One additional benefit? You don’t have to worry about your cell phone and Blackberry battery life. There is minimal coverage up in the mountains.
Not yet a member of PATC? Completing a quick online application and payment of an annual $35 membership fee will solve the problem.
Once you are an official member, you immediately earn extra bonus points. There are thirty-eight other club cabins available for rent in the mountains of Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania. If you pay, you play. If you don’t, you won’t.
So let’s sum it up. Annual membership: $35. Cabin rental: $45 per night. Food and gas for the weekend: $100, maybe. The experience? Priceless.
Keith Argow & Jeff Testerman
Warrenton Hikers Assault Old Rag Mountain at Night
For several days the weather forecast called for cloudy skies. Even the afternoon of the event it was ominously predicted that clouds with patches of fog would envelop the trampers. Not a bright idea to climb Old Rag Mountain in pitch darkness.
As the Sun Sets the Troops Assemble
But, as the cars unloaded at the trailhead parking lot and the hikers noisily assembled in anticipation of a brisk walk up the slopes, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
Head’em up…move’em out.
Old Rag Mountain is located in Madison County, not far from Sperryville, Virginia. It is one of the most popular hikes in the Mid-Atlantic Region, with spectacular views in all directions from its regal crown of boulders. It’s also a strenuous hike, especially if a frontal assault up the Ridge Trail is taken rather than the easier ascent up the Weakley Hollow Fire Road. Think jungle gym on steroids.
Take a quick guess which route we chose.
Our intrepid little band of fourteen hikers had been assembled by Jim Carson, an outdoor enthusiast, who over the last few years has built a loyal following of like-minded guys who love the mountains. Sorry ladies, you’re going to have to form your own chapter; this crew is all testosterone wrapped in moisture wicking undergear. Opening an incoming email from Trapper Carson is an anticipated moment. Where is the dude taking us now?
As we began to climb the trail, the moon glowed like a huge orange ball on the eastern horizon, slowly fading to milky white as it climbed higher in the sky. Flashlights were in sporadic use but not mandatory. “By the light of the silvery moon…” began to take on real meaning.
Jake & Jim Carson
Then it hit us. The Wall. Ascending Old Rag via the Ridge Trail for the first ninety minutes is typical of any Shenandoah National Park hike; a well traveled and easy walkup. Then things begin to get interesting. It starts innocently enough with a sharp angled boulder, twenty yards in length, which reminds you of scampering up your roof to inspect a flapping shingle. Abruptly, the roof becomes two roofs jutting side-by-side vertically and you are trying to squeeze between them. Hmmm…maybe I should take off my pack and throw it head of me. This is tight territory.
The speedy pace of the early hike now slows to a grind. Certain sections need to be taken by sitting on your posterior and scooting up the sheer rock face backwards. Shouldn’t the park install handles here? Not a chance, pal. You are now in Old Rag country. Buck it up.
My progress was slow but decent until the cramps kicked in. Using all my strength to advance up and through narrow slits in the rocks my hamstrings started slowly murmuring, “What do you think you’re doing?” Fortunately, my secret weapons kicked in: Jim and Andreas. They alternately extended much needed hands to pull me up the steepest rocks. Memo to file: stick these guys in my pack if I ever do this again.
Finally, after more grunting than is heard at a county fair hog chase, all fourteen hikers were topside and congratulating themselves. Then a new phenomenon kicked in. This place is cold! With moisture dripping from every pore in our bodies and a stiff breeze blowing the frigid air around, damp clothing takes on a decidedly nasty feeling. Lets’ get moving.
And so we did. At a fast pace. The backside saddle trail connects to the easy fire road descent and the last hour of the hike was a constant chatter of conversation. As the last hiker walked into the parking lot, smiles and photo flashes where popping up all over the place. And clouds began to obscure our silver beacon in the sky. Perfect timing.
The jaunt covered almost ten miles in about five hours. Not bad in dim light over a rocky footpath.
Now for our reward. Where are we headed for the post hike libation? Uh, this is Sunday night at 10pm deep in rural country. Ain’t a place open that has a cold Corona for sale.
Oh well, next time we’ll do old Rag during the day. Hurtin’ never felt so good. We’ll be back.
Old Rag Mountain Vanquished
Wineries, B&Bs and Fine Hotels Offer Nearby Fulfilled Getaways
With over 170 wineries, more than 200 bed and breakfasts and numerous charming hotels, the opportunity for planning an overnight or extended vacation in the Old Dominion, without forcing the house into foreclosure, is almost limitless.
Beyond a doubt, a trip to Napa Valley or France to tour vineyards and dine at famous restaurants is an attractive adventure. It also comes with a multiple-thousand dollar price tag. How can you enjoy a similar holiday at a fraction of the cost? Simply think Virginia.
This past August, my wife Jean and I challenged our good friends Fred and Betsy to join us for a day of winery hopping followed by an evening stay at the historic Mimslyn Inn in Luray. Not surprisingly, they accepted.
Our companions had not visited many of our area vineyards so I crafted an itinerary that included six unique wineries. As the designated driver, I sipped lightly at each stop since I had been to all of them on more than one occasion.
The fascinating part of the tour for me was chatting with the proprietors. One of the delightful aspects of Virginia wine country is the opportunity to meet and talk with the owners, winemakers or vineyard managers. Up close and personal comes to life in the world of Virginia wine. This is not GalloWorld.
Barrel Oak Winery
Our first destination was Barrel Oak Winery—or BOW–in Delaplane. We arrived around noon, well before the busy mid-afternoon guest traffic. The winery’s growing reputation centers on dogs and kids. It is an eclectic atmosphere where “fun” is the password to a good time. As anticipated, upon our arrival owner Brian Roeder was surveying the tasting room and greeting visitors with smiles and pooches with patted heads. He smiled at us.
BOW is one of the fastest growing wineries in VA and challenges the concept that a quiet tasting room is de rigueur. Here the atmosphere is more akin to a family reunion with parents, grandparents, kids, young adults and several of man’s best friends tail wagging away, all enjoying the spacious tasting room, patio or picnic-tabled grounds. Before we departed, Fred purchased a bottle of Norton, a wine he’s not normally a fan of. The BOW creation, however, changed his mind.
Next we motored up Route 17 to Delaplane Vineyards. Owner Jim Dolphin was in the cellar when we arrived, but within minutes he was standing behind the tasting bar discussing the upcoming harvest and sharing some insights on the wines we were sipping. Dolphin chose a beautiful piece of property upon which to build his sleek looking winery. The tasting room features a long series of picture windows providing vistas of nearby rolling ridges and points further west. Typical of most wineries in our state, the views matched the quality of the wines. I purchased a bottle of the Maggie’s Vineyard Viognier, a grape performing very well in Virginia.
Next on the agenda was Linden Vineyards. Established in the early 1980s and situated on 76 high and rolling acres, the winery has acquired an almost cult-like following due to the passion for winegrowing of its owner, Jim Law. Law is one of the most respected winemakers in the mid-Atlantic region and writes extensively on the subject of grape cultivation and winemaking. Shortly after our arrival, Jim emerged from the cellar and we discussed the exceptionally hot summer Virginia was experiencing. Temperatures hovered in the high nineties for the better part of the growing season and Law had harvested his Seyval Blanc a few days before on August 12, one of his earliest harvest dates in memory. After our tasting the fine line up of wines, Betsy purchased a bottle of the Avenius Sauvignon Blanc and we departed, briefly stopping to snap some photos of the vineyard’s succulent Cabernet Franc vines heavy with fruit.
Descending back down the steep, winding and picturesque entrance to Linden, we drove a few miles north to Fox Meadow Vineyards. Again, this establishment sits on highly elevated land with sweeping views of the Blue Ridge Mountains. In fact, all six of the wineries that we were to visit on our tour possessed scenes worthy of an artist’s attention. Sipping quality wines in such pastoral settings has been known to reduce blood pressure readings by as much as 25-points. A winery a day keeps the doctor away.
Preparing for Harvest
Fox Meadows owners, Bob and Cheryl Mortland were behind the tasting bar when we arrived, pouring their lineup of exceptionally clean and tasty wines. Jean and I were particularly struck by the whites and purchased a bottle of the Le Renard Gris, a creative blend of Vidal Blanc, Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio. Bob and I chatted about our attending a tasting for a group of ten British wine writers to be held the following day at the Ashby Inn in Paris, VA. Even the Brits are getting the message about the rising quality of our state’s wines.
Chester Gap Cellars was our next destination. If it’s possible for the scenery to improve, the property that Bernd and Kristi Jung’s establishment resides on proves the point. Nestled at the top of Chester Gap at 1,700 feet elevation, views from the winery deck gaze down on scenic Rappahannock County, home to the internationally known Inn at Little Washington and another six wineries. Our schedule precluded the temptation to visit some of those wineries so we took a virtual tour by soaking up the views.
At the tasting bar, the Jungs performed a tag team minuet as they poured and described their wines. I’ve always enjoyed the style of wine produced by Bernd and again on this visit found the aromatic, full bodied offerings equal to the best in the state. As we prepared to depart, a bottle of his Viognier goes into the wine box in the back of our 4Runner. Will there be a fight at the end of our tour as to who gets whose wine? Fred eyes me suspiciously as I place my bottle next to his Norton. Memo to file: Don’t mess with Fred’s wines.
As we headed for our final tasting of the day, Glen Manor Vineyards, Betsy again pulls out her traveling hors d’oeuvre tray and serves cheese and crackers to the pilot, co-pilot and her sweetie. During wine tours you get to keep your trays in the permanent down position since all the landings are soft…and yummy.
Jeff White, proprietor and winemaker at Glen Manor Vineyards, located south of Front Royal, belongs to a long line of Virginia farmers whose origins date back to 1787 when the property encompassed 14,000 acres. Today, the estate consists of 212 acres, about 15 of which are under vine. Unlike all of the wineries we had previously visited, Glen Manor is tucked at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains and provides sweeping views upward of open pasture land, vineyards, and the faint trace of Skyline Drive at the top of the mountains. Beauty in reverse.
White, like Jim Law who he formerly worked for, considers himself a winegrower foremost, letting the quality of his fruit dictate his final wines. His philosophy is apparent in the glass as we drifted through two Sauvignon Blancs and three deeply flavored reds. Building memory lane is fun.
Philip Carter Winery Vineyards
With our afternoon fading into evening, we drove south via Route 340 to the town of Luray. I had reserved two suites at the historic Mimslyn Inn, built in 1931, and the recipient of a multi-million dollar restoration a few years back. The suites are beautifully appointed and after checking in and enjoying an hour’s respite to reflect on the day’s adventures, our foursome met for dinner in the comfy Speakeasy restaurant. My dinner of baby back ribs and fries were a perfect match for an accompanying glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.
After dinner we sat out on the third floor patio, star gazing and chatting until our eyelids began to droop. Time for dreamland.
Monday morning gifted us with typical Virginia August weather…hot and sunny. We breakfasted in the elegant and cool Circa ’31 dining room. Sliding away from the table an hour later we all realized there would be no need to eat till dinnertime.
As I pointed our winemobile east and drove up and over the lush Shenandoah National Park we fought the temptation to stop at few more wineries in route home. Between the samplings of fermented grapes enjoyed the day before and the belt expanding breakfast we just consumed, we made a group decision the weekend had been properly seized. Carpe Vino.
Planning your own wine getaway is as easy as consulting two web sites: First go to http://www.virginiawine.org/ and find a listing and descriptions of all the wineries in VA. Then Google http://www.innvirginia.com/ and choose a bed & breakfast to match your proposed itinerary.
Your own Virginia staycation awaits you. Release the travel agent inside you and start planning your trip today.
Mimslyn Inn, Luray, VA
Published in the November 25, 2010 edition of the Culpeper Times.
One Man’s View of a Walk in the Woods
Footpath: n. a path for people to walk along, especially one in the countryside.
Verdant Footpath
I love to walk. In the woods. Where my footsteps connect with the earth at the same time my mind connects with…almost anything. A walk is God’s prescription for a relaxed state of mind.
A good walk can solve problems, ease tensions and take you home a different person than when you started.
And so it was that I was out walking my community wooded trails recently, when I heard the sound of construction equipment up ahead. Hmmmm…perhaps some road work after the harsh winter? Or a nearby homeowner’s driveway being resealed?
Nothing as pedestrian as that. My beloved trail was being repaired after several years of rains had eroded out a few small sections of the footpath. But, to my surprise, the small repair job continued on and on. “Oh my gosh, they are turning the trail into a roadway,” I thought to myself.
And indeed it was true. An extended segment of our community trails had small tractors and graders carving out a new road bed and dumping and then rolling tons of gravel in its place.
Technically, the road looked great. But why in the middle of the forest? Soon enough I would be back on the real highways of modern society, bumper to bumper with speeding traffic and exhaust fumes. Did we really need a mini-extension of our highway system dropped into our little world of green?
But so it is. And I will adapt to the new look soon enough. But, I can’t help feeling something of value has been lost.
Growing up, I often heard the advertising refrain, “Progress is our most important product”. Really?
New & Improved Footpath
It was a perfect spring evening. We sat on our screen porch and gazed at fading sunbeams pouring softly through the nearby forest, creating images of flickering firelight on the screening.
Glasses of chilled Sauvignon Blanc rested in our hands—my wife Jean, my son-in-law Drew and the Wine Guy. My daughter Colleen was upstairs hunched over her laptop. She was putting the finishing touches on a PowerPoint presentation being readied for a meeting the next morning in Richmond.
Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow. Plaintive. Pleading. Pathetic.
It was a sound that rendered all of us staring blankly as a small black cat passed at the edge of the forest and flopped on the ground forty feet away. What’s going on we wondered?
“Oh, my gosh, that cat is pregnant,” Jean murmured alarmingly. Drew and I only observed a small black patch breathing deeply, staring vacantly. Meow. Meow.
Within moments Jean had popped the lid on a can of cat food and slowly walked toward the feline. The animal didn’t move. This was not a feral. This was a house cat in distress. Perhaps abandoned.
Within minutes, the can of food had been consumed and the cat reclined again, lying in her original resting spot. Silence enveloped us all as we contemplated the scene.
Then, screeecchh! Sisssssss! Grrrrrrrrrr.
“Boots”, our local feral tom cat, arrived on the scene to find the interloper possessing his territory. The black cat’s back arched high in the air as it slowly backed off and then scampered quickly into the darkening woods.
The scene came and went quickly and we chatted quietly about the plight of the mother-to-be left to somehow survive on her own. Nature’s cruel beauty revealed.
Miracle
That night Jean restlessly dreamed of the cat. In the morning she tried to shake the image of the distressed animal roaming a friendless world. Then about noon the animal reappeared.
This time Jean was ready. She grabbed her animal cage and placed a can of food inside and left it in front of the kitten-size cat. The animal trustfully entered the cage and began eating. She snapped the door shut.
That evening the cat slept peacefully in our garage, enveloped in an old comforter.
The next morning Jean whispered to me as I awoke, “She’s had five babies!” “You’re kidding,” I replied. “That quickly?” “Yep. Go down and take a look,” our pseudo Mom replied.
Miracle & Babies
As I slowly opened the garage door, the new mother raised her head, gave me a glance, and reclined again. Arrayed around her tummy were five small furry bundles, each three inches a long and the thickness of a summer sausage. We soon realized one of the babies had been stillborn.
The cat’s arrival at our house and cry for help could not have been timelier. She was given the name Miracle. If we had not been on the porch when she wandered by, her kittens would not likely have survived.
The episode highlights the need for spaying and neutering animals. It is estimated up to 12 million feral and abandoned cats roam cities and rural areas of America. Not only are most of them reproducing at alarming rates, they take a considerable toll on songbirds and other small animal life.
Baby Cameo
In our area, the Fauquier Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals is dedicated to providing a temporary refuge for stray, homeless and abandoned animals, and to placing such animals in a caring, appropriate home whenever possible. Educating the public about the benefits of spaying and neutering is an extremely important part of its mission. Visit them at http://www.fauquierspca.com/
So what’s the outcome for Miracle and her brood? They all still reside in our home and Jean is looking to place them in a safe environment. If you are willing to adopt a cat or kitten drop me a line at John@Hagarty-on-Wine.com. Miracle is a sweet, affectionate young mother less than a year old, and her kittens are all beauties.
In an era where life, in all forms, is often shown little respect, it was a privilege to save one young cat and her family. Might you be interested writing the next chapter to this tale?
Baby Slate
Highway Cleanup Effort Assures Winery Guests Beautiful Views To Match its Beautiful Wines
On a bright, breezy day in late March, staff from Rappahannock Cellars donned work clothes and boots and hit Zachary Taylor Highway armed with orange trash bags and a can-do attitude. It was time to cleanup a two-mile section of its Adopt-A-Highway road.
The Virginia Department of Transportation created the program in 1988. The winery has been a participant in the statewide beautification effort for five years. The volunteer supported program sponsors 6,800 groups who keep 13,000 miles of road litter free across the State.
During the spring cleanup, the winery devoted nearly thirty man hours in gathering twenty-five bags of trash. Allan Delmare, Marketing Manger for the winery, said, “The removal of trash along the highway that borders our vineyards is just one example our commitment to a clean environment. And frankly, it’s a fun and satisfying way to help keep Rappahannock County the most beautiful spot in Virginia.”
For individuals and groups interested in adopting a section of the Old Dominion’s highways or byways contact the Virginia Department of Transportation.
White. The traditional color for love, purity, innocence, and of course, weddings. It reflects light and enhances all the other colors of the spectrum. Yet, mention it in the context of snow and the reaction is often, “Oh no.”
Here in Virginia, the 2009-10 winter has been the snowiest in several years. It’s mid-February and much of our state lies under a soft layer of white. Many parts of the Old Dominion have had over 50 inches of snow this winter. Reagan National Airport has recorded 54.9 inches, breaking a record for the Nation’s Capital set back in 1899.
And spring is still weeks away. By comparison, last year we had an average of less than ten inches statewide.
But as troublesome and aggravating as a heavy snowfall can be, its negative impact is eased by the beauty and serenity of snowflakes falling gently upon a dreary winter landscape. Gazing out the window of our home office, as snow slowly accumulates on lawn and forest, I undergo a transformation of mind and spirit. A sizeable snowfall on a cold wintry day comes close to being a magical thing, especially in light of today’s world of political discontent, economic hardship and security threats.
Snow transports us to another, more perfect world, if only for a short time. 
Embracing its gentle softness can let our minds drift with each falling flake. Soon enough, like life itself, the beauty will fade.
The scenes of a snowfall panorama are varied. In our world of rural Virginia, it’s the finches scampering and fluttering on top of the fallen white crest, feeding on seed we have scattered on the surface. Later in the afternoon, a small herd of deer, led by a young buck with a perfect eight-point rack, nibble on birdseed the squirrels and birds missed earlier in the day.
As evening draws closer, our feral cat—dubbed “Boots” because of his four white paws—wanders out of the woods looking for his bowl of Friskies located under the porch. And we wonder, how does he survive these frigid nights and deep snows? And where does he meander off to as the sun settles behind the hills to our west? Nature. Survival. Amazing.
Of course, there is work associated with this dreamscape. Shoveling walks, snow blowing driveways, cleaning vehicles laden with layers of white, and making runs to the grocery store between storms to maintain stocks of milk, bread and the important paper products.
But as the last light of day fades into soft purple hues, I start the fire in our wood burning stove and deal with the hard issues of life. “Viognier or Cabernet Franc tonight, hon?” Hmmmm…no immediate response. And then from upstairs, “Well, we’re having lamb stew, what do you think?”
Oh, that’s an easy one. I pour two small glasses of Viognier that will serve as an opening aperitif, and then decant a bottle of Cabernet Franc to be enjoyed later with Jean’s world-class stew.
The winter’s been harsh. The cold grows wearisome. But life is good.
Perhaps we owe it all to snow.
