26 August 2012
It's the chance of a lifetime, a dream come true. Amazing good fortune for me and for you.
A personal tour of a vineyard estate; A spot opened up, someone else cancelled late.
A last minute change of our plans for the day, But since we fill in, only half price we pay!
A little bit rustic, we'll be out of touch, But that really won't inconvenience us much.
Just look at this place; it's a castle, no less! I'm loving this old time, traditional press.
Theses hills have been planted for 800 years. The care that they have for the soil is clear.
And to top it all off, the owner's our host At dinner that's paired with the wines he loves most.
A seemingly frail old gent named Pierre With quick, agile hands and a piercing black stare
Explaining their reds have such body and bones Because of the earth,the water and stones.
The key is imbuing the grape vines with soul; This binds separate pieces together as whole.
We share that our hope is to one day be part Of a vineyard ourselves, to give it our hearts.
He smiles at this, says he feels quite sure We have wine in our futures. Now, on with the tour!
So, he alone leads us, as here we descend Into the barrel rooms that underneath wend,
Connected by corridors, ancient and damp And lit only dimly by sparsely spaced lamps.
Then suddenly, darkness extinguishes light. Surrounding stone walls echo our cries of fright.
There's nothing to see but two eyes glowing red. A feeling of terror explodes in my head.
Stumbling in blackness, there's nowhere to flee Until my neck's pierced by bloodsucking teeth.
The dawning sun breaks upon dew glittered grapes Hanging clustered and fat in their rows. It's no easy task to fill quality casks, Something each winemaker knows.
This pastoral scene hides secrets, it seems, Never to guess from afar. The bones of the past sing forth in each glass, The essence, the voice, of terroir.
Terroir • Opuss № I