Naming the Winery

By the time the sun gets fully up and warms the chill air, I’ve ditched my shoes, enjoying the feel of the rich dirt of the farm between my toes. Eric just shakes his head, having gotten used to my aversion to shoes. We’re tying vines to the their trellises, an extremely boring job, but by the time the morning is half over, we’ve fallen into a rhythm with it. He stretches the vine along the wire, I wrap the twine, tie it off and cut the ends.

“Told you she’d make you work.”

He snickers. “I was scared to say no.”

“Right, mate, totally understand. She’s scary, all right.”

( “What’s she calling her wines anyway?” )

NC-17