The rain has returned. That's all I seem to
be able to write here. No more lingering
sun, no last roses. None.
A plague has inhabited my throat and head
since I returned from New York. It does
odd things to the brain. This morning when I
woke up I went into the bathroom and stood
on the scale and couldn't see the numbers.
I wondered if I had suddenly lost some vision,
or perhaps I was still asleep. Disconcerting.
Or maybe I didn't want to see the numbers.
Or maybe I just hadn't turned on the light.
Yep. That was it.
I needed sudafed and coffee, and light,
and I got all three.
And vision returned, as did a tiny portion
of the brain. We are such simple creatures,
I've happened upon a great red wine from Sicily,
the grape is called Nero d'Avola. Last year
about this time I bought a bottle for ten bucks
at PCC and was blown away, so I went back
and bought a case. Then, post consumption,
forgot the name. (Well, I did have a lot going on
at the time. Like Getting Married.)
Last month, at The Grape Choice in Kirkland, I had
a conversation with Larry Springer, the owner,
(who is also a State Representative for the 45th District).
We were chatting about Italian wines, and he said he
was familiar with a particular Sicilian red but
couldn't remember what it was. As we were chatting,
we kind of moseyed about the store. Suddenly,
he reached down to a box on the floor, and said,
"is this it?"
Indeed, it was.
Not the same vintner, but the same grape.
So I've begun a search for Nero d'Avola throughout the city.