Songbird Cellars…

As a recently converted wine drinker, Merlot please, it’s become clear why so many derive such passion with wine.  As my half century mark rapidly approaches, wine has become more and more relevent to every part of who and what I am.  Now that wine is used in just about every meal I prepare, keeping a full bottle in the house becomes a real challenge.

Recently my wife and I shared a meal with a delightful family.  As we sat around waiting on the last minutes of preparation, we were treated with wine lovingly made by our host’s very hands.  The taste that followed this liquid as it splashed excitedly against my palate was rapturous.  I sat still and tried to take in what I had just experienced and found myself completely at a loss for words.  When words failed I looked at my wife who had just encountered the same pleasure and connected eyes like two schoolkids who knew a great secret.  Fortunately he had a few bottles to share that night and the evening will go down as one of the better nights of community we’ve ever had.  Please don’t ask me what we had to eat that night for on that subject I’m blank but I remember every delicious moment drinking that homemade wine.

Our host informed us he had been making wine for over forty years.  He didn’t know it then but he had just volunteered to be my wine making mentor.  To my amazement he happily offered to share his wealth of knowledge with me on this new undertaking.  Suddenly I found myself resisting the urge to the “Happy Feet Dance.”

I researched and studied, watched videos and asked until I felt comfortable beginning my own effort into wine making.  Slowly I assembled the required tools and equipment of the trade, cleared a place to operate in my basement and jumped in with both feet.

It’s completely like me to focus my efforts on a name before even finding out if the wine will be pleasant, not to mention good.  But that’s just the way I roll in my aging body so a clever name we have…Songbird Cellars.  Cool right?

The first batch of Merlot is only a few days old at this point.  The must (juice of the grapes) has turned into the beginnings of a wine when the carefully measured yeast hit the batch.  The aroma stops you in your tracks downstairs, I’m temped to pull up a sleeping bag and spend the night in there dreaming of a time not to far off when I finally get to sample a glass of our home-brew.

So now I’m an amateur wine maker.  A hobby with great benefits.

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