It’s a Sunday and normally I would be bummed out about the end of the weekend and the beginning of the work week. I’d already be thinking about Friday, wishing my life away to get there. Now, in retirement, Sunday is just another day – so why wish it away?
I got together with some of my retired friends this weekend. One is a wine hobbiest with a small vineyard on the hill behind their home. His wife is the vintner and our supervisor. Every year at this time we help them haul away the gnarly vines that are left in piles after several weeks of pruning. It’s hard work for a couple of hours, and involves renting a trailer to get them to a recycling center, but we all walk away with several bottles of wine for our efforts. with our cheap labor, they make about 300 bottles of wine each year. Picking the grapes, smashing them, and bottling will come later in the year, as we get together for each stage of the process.
We’re starting to get a little old to do this, so we’re always searching for shortcuts. It’s about the only manual labor I do each year, but it probably makes the wine taste better. It certainly gets better with age, just like we do!
Some Things Get Better With Age
There is improvement,
As time works its magic.
Some just get better,
Make life fantastic.
Wine in the barrel,
Grows in flavor.
Giving us its nectar,
To enjoy and savor.
As time passes by,
Its value increases.
From inside each grape,
More flavor releases.
Roll out the barrel,
We’ll have some fun.
Vines Growing rich,
From days in the sun.
Then aged in the dark,
Throughout the years.
Awaiting a toast,
Exclaiming “Cheers.”
I think of us,
When thinking of wine.
Our love getting stronger,
Like a thick old vine.
We’ve grown it together,
Share it each day.
It’s our love potent,
And it’s Grade A.
When I squeeze you,
It oozes from your pores.
It should be bottled,
And sold in stores
Money in the love bank,
Too high to gage.
Our love is growing,
Better with age.
copyright 2015 johnstonwrites.com
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