As I wander from work table to computer and back, I try to find a fancy story to tell you. Something witty to make you laugh. And maybe me, too. That's what blogging is about, at least for me. A glimpse in someone else's day, and for the writer a reminder of the good, and sometimes bad events that happened. An exercise in finding the positive and the funny.
There have been both, here on the winery, of course. The good and the bad, the funny and the angry.
But I can't find a way to tell you about it all. The fancy words are on holiday, and maybe sometimes life just wants to be life. One day after the other, more or less the same. And that's fine with me.
Not that we were resting. Harvest has started more than a week ago. The first red grapes came in today. But the photos I took are exactly the same as last year, the words that come to mind are nothing new. I can't find a new angle to the same procedure.
This will be Vincent's and my last harvest. We are leaving the winery. In October I will go to Berlin, to work as an illustrator again. I'm full of hope and also greatly relieved to be able to do what I like best full time.
But there's also sadness at leaving this place, at leaving the people here. Sadness also because Vincent wants to go to Marseille, where I don't want to go, and I want to go to Berlin, where he doesn't want to go.
Meanwhile we're waiting for the lady who will take over our work to arrive, to help her get started. It feels very much like a bubble in time. We're full of new projects and ideas but we're still here, still responsible for parts of life on the winery, for the welfare of our team, for the way harvest plays itself out.
Sometimes our nerves are stretched thin and near the breaking point, but at the same time things always flow forward. Like I said: One day after the other, more or less the same, and it doesn't really matter if they're pleasant or not, even though I would prefer them all to be one happy stretch of memories. The important thing is that things move forward.