Touring the Wine Country

I did that once, after an RWA Board meeting. Carol Prescott invited me to come along while she picked up several cases of wine from the small wineries favored by herself and her splendid husband, Thane. I got to hear winemakers and an expert consumer discussing the grapes on a small hillside and how they gave forth the best of wines. Mostly, they could have been speaking Klingon. I know nuzzink about wine except this one thing: If Thane and Carol chose it, the wine will be excellent. Best of all, the vineyards were located near the Russian River. The scenery is heartgripping there, and it’s lost none of its beauty since I saw it on that day with Carol. And the coast rose she chose for the long drive back to San Francisco was perfect: sea and sun and sky. So Carol was the guiding light for Phase Three of my vacation

This was to be an “Editorial Retreat” of sort, with exciting plans to lounge in the hot tub and discuss the use of semicolons in fiction. Alicia Rasley found the house, which is located where the Russian River empties into the Pacific, There were wonderful views from every roon and the two decks. The weather was perfect.

So we all did the usual stuff: sat around talking and drinking wine, eating, trying to pick up WiFi. Unwinding. Managing Editor Theresa Stevens is a knitter and apparently a good one.

But we didn’t always relax. Alicia and I ganged up on Theresa and won her promise to read Dorothy Dunnett’s Lymond Chroncles. (These are not stories about my cat, although I expect he wishes they were,)

Two writer friends suggested we meet for brunch at an off-road diner reputed to be excellent. It was. But the friends arrived nearly three hours late! I was sure the owner and waiter would toss us out, but enormous tips saved the day. Along with the excellent Eggs Benedict.


When we needed supplies, we drove along the river to the little town of Guerneville. A good place to stay, by the way, only 90 minutes north of San Francisco, especially if you love canoeing, kayaking, and other river activities. And if you want to visit (in my case revisit) the 70s!

We never did have our Hot Tub Editorial Meetings. Of course, why waste our brilliance when it can be conveyed on Alicia and Theresa’s excellent blog about writing, editing, submitting, and related publishing activities.
http://www.edittorrent.blogspot.com

Only I fell in love with the hot tub. It was on the deck just outside my room. The pulsing water felt wonderful. But I was there for the stars. We city dwellers forget how star-crowded the sky is when there is no wash of light to blank them out, Truly, I haven’t see the milky way since Girl Scout Camp. Just to look at the stars in their twinkly beauty thrilled me. Every night there was at least one “falling star,” probably space junk burning up in the atmosphere. Still beautiful, though.

So that was my bliss, a wholly Zen experience each night that reconnected me with the universe. Sometimes we get all caught up in small but troubling things, or large troubling things. For me, a little perspective helps. We’re so much smaller than those stars, yet we are made of stardust. And we are part of something far greater than ourselves, something we don’t presently understand. Anyway, being with those stars made me happy.