A HA! Yet another blog post about our video and wine review of Premier Estate. Check it!
http://wannabewino.com/2009/09/08/passion-of-pinot/
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wannabewino Digs Our Wine! Go figure...
A HA! Yet another blog post about our video and wine review of Premier Estate. Check it!
http://wannabewino.com/2009/09/08/passion-of-pinot/
Rosie the Bee Dog! MWAH!
Check out my most excellent friend: Rosie the Bee Dog. I always wondered where all that Styring Honey came from. BTW we will have Honey starting Thanksgiving Weekend. It sells out quickly - email me to reserve yours today: molly@styringvineyards.comWednesday, September 23, 2009
Adventures of Molly the Wine Dog #3: across the river
The morning sunlight stabbed me right in the eye. I closed it. Rolling out of the leaves, every joint aches with the cold of the night on the forest floor. Slowly, I rise to all fours and stretch hard - first downward facing dog - haunches high, forelegs thrust out front, back arching low. Then, cobra - head high, back legs thrust out, butt low, neck stretching up, up, up. Ahhh...I'd smile if I knew how. Finished it off with a good, hard shake starting at my nose and undulating through my body until it flicks off my tail, ears loudly flap slapping my face. Yes, that's the stuff.
Something about a good night's sleep and waking up in a familiar place makes you feel less lost even if the place has only been familiar for just one night. I pad down to the water's edge and notice for the first time the faintest color blue through the trees across the river. Two steps to the right and a small chimney confirms that there is a house nestled in the firs. Hmm... I wonder about that. Who would live out here in the middle of nothing?
I hear the crack of a branch and a faint snuffling behind me. I whip around just in time to see a skunk poking around the roots of a Madrone tree about ten feet away looking for grubs. I jump back with a bark that's more like a yelp and the skunk does the same with a sound nearly indescribable but similar in inflection to mine. I take one step forward and if I didn't smell the skunk coming I certainly smelled it leave. In a moment so fast I could barely close my eyes the skunk turned and hurled its stench at me with the fury of 1000 cats and left me in a foul cloud of chemical madness.
Barking, choking, blind and vomiting, I stumble backward into the river hoping for the sweet relief of the cool water. I put my head under and open my eyes. The cold is calming but my gut is still roiling, so I have to surface to vomit once, twice, three times more. It passes. Loose stones under foot give poor purchase against the current which rushes harder as I slip deeper, farther from the shore. I lose footing entirely and begin to swim, sneezing, half blind, down the river. I go with the current.
Slowly my eyes clear enough to see I'm drifting in the center of the river, not too quickly and now I have full view of the blue house, small wisps of smoke escaping the chimney. Some paddling and driving later and I crawl to the bank about a quarter mile from the house. I flop on shore in a muddy spot and lay motionless, breathing. My eyes open and close, still stinging, and pulled down, down, down into the darkness of the numbing cold and fatigue. The last thing I see is a pair of boots coming toward me. All is dark.
Something about a good night's sleep and waking up in a familiar place makes you feel less lost even if the place has only been familiar for just one night. I pad down to the water's edge and notice for the first time the faintest color blue through the trees across the river. Two steps to the right and a small chimney confirms that there is a house nestled in the firs. Hmm... I wonder about that. Who would live out here in the middle of nothing?
I hear the crack of a branch and a faint snuffling behind me. I whip around just in time to see a skunk poking around the roots of a Madrone tree about ten feet away looking for grubs. I jump back with a bark that's more like a yelp and the skunk does the same with a sound nearly indescribable but similar in inflection to mine. I take one step forward and if I didn't smell the skunk coming I certainly smelled it leave. In a moment so fast I could barely close my eyes the skunk turned and hurled its stench at me with the fury of 1000 cats and left me in a foul cloud of chemical madness.
Barking, choking, blind and vomiting, I stumble backward into the river hoping for the sweet relief of the cool water. I put my head under and open my eyes. The cold is calming but my gut is still roiling, so I have to surface to vomit once, twice, three times more. It passes. Loose stones under foot give poor purchase against the current which rushes harder as I slip deeper, farther from the shore. I lose footing entirely and begin to swim, sneezing, half blind, down the river. I go with the current.
Slowly my eyes clear enough to see I'm drifting in the center of the river, not too quickly and now I have full view of the blue house, small wisps of smoke escaping the chimney. Some paddling and driving later and I crawl to the bank about a quarter mile from the house. I flop on shore in a muddy spot and lay motionless, breathing. My eyes open and close, still stinging, and pulled down, down, down into the darkness of the numbing cold and fatigue. The last thing I see is a pair of boots coming toward me. All is dark.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
I gotta sit down and think about this for a minute. Let my head digest it. This article says there are six types of wine tasters, you know experts, novices, new best friend's, etc.
http://www.dailyfork.com/2009/08/the_6_types_of_people_youll_me.php
But, I think I have a different list in mind:
1) wine tasters who ask for me by name, because the sound of your own name is the sweetest sound. they're my favorite.
2) wine tasters who ask for me by name and scratch my ears, belly, etc. probably my actual favorite now that I think about it.
3) except for those who ask for me by name, drop cheese, and scratch me who are probably even more likely to be my favorite, but it's kinda giving me a headache.
4) oh, but then there are the girls in short skirts who ask for me by name, drop cheese and scratch me who are probably my real, actual for sure favorite.
5) except for the girls in short skirts with dogs, because they smell really excellent.
come see us soon! woof! love, molly
http://www.dailyfork.com/2009/08/the_6_types_of_people_youll_me.php
But, I think I have a different list in mind:
1) wine tasters who ask for me by name, because the sound of your own name is the sweetest sound. they're my favorite.
2) wine tasters who ask for me by name and scratch my ears, belly, etc. probably my actual favorite now that I think about it.
3) except for those who ask for me by name, drop cheese, and scratch me who are probably even more likely to be my favorite, but it's kinda giving me a headache.
4) oh, but then there are the girls in short skirts who ask for me by name, drop cheese and scratch me who are probably my real, actual for sure favorite.
5) except for the girls in short skirts with dogs, because they smell really excellent.
come see us soon! woof! love, molly
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