The vast cathedral sits empty this morning, as the light from the ruby stained-glass windows warms the woman through her thick wool coat. She looks for some solace from the bitter, unsympathetic fall breeze. The organ is a thing of pure beauty with its tall, intricately carved pipes reaching almost to the curved, tiled ceiling above. Its antiquity and its strength booming from within, the musical sounds transcending the silence and solitude of one’s own thoughts. The woman reaches into her coat pocket, encircling the chocolate treat she protects for her dearest, whom she has not seen in thirteen long years.

DESSERT STYLE ZINFANDEL BARREL AGED FOR 15 YEARS.

New Release

Mr. Warm Paws with a bold, brazen disposition ready at all times for an adventure in the pickup truck. Strong conformation, eyes that warm your heart and a smile, although missing a few teeth, is infectious and comforting. Barreling down the dirt drive, dust flying in his wake, you are greeted by paw pounding excitement and the earthy scent of sweet sage brush, similar to the way the canyon smells on hot day in late summer. As we enter the halved wine barrel garden along the terraced hill, he sniffs at the various plants; sweet strawberries, ripening bell peppers, cherries hanging heaving on the tree and the juicy plums just turning from green to a rich burnished purple with the promise of stained lips.  

It was a striking rust red sunset wrapping the evening sky in a fire like blanket above the granite peaks, reflecting off the alpine lake, nightfall creeping closer. Smooth cashmere cloth rested on my shoulders, slipping slightly as I leaned forward to devour the most scrumptious black cherry crème brulee I had ever seen, garnished with fragrant fresh mint and tart blackberries and more bright sour cherries. Sitting in front of the cedar cabin, that had stood for generations, I took a bite and melted body and soul into that scene of peace and content, with a warming sip of bourbon passing my lips. Indulgent was an understatement.

New Release...description coming soon.

Pretty pretty Paisley, pretty as you please. Her lips as bright as cranberries, she does not get weak at the knees. Tough as nails our Paisley, with strength and opportunity of youth. Quick of wit, low on wisdom, always ready with the truth. The wood stove smelling of sage brush, releases a light wisp of smoke. She settles in for the evening, surrounded by her folk. Warmth of heart and body, cozy as can be. She reflects upon the stars and considers no one as lucky as she.

New Release--Description pending.

New Release--Description pending.

Deep in the woods far beyond the lake's edge there resided a lonely girl, who dreamed of far away lands and unfathomable beauty. Left to herself, she cultivated a verdant garden, boasting of luscious orchards of tart lemon, sweet apples, and ripe juicy apricots. She loved to work with her hands in the dirt, her hair constantly falling loose from her long golden braid, but no one was around to worry or remark on her appearance. Life was peaceful, pleasant and when she felt alone, she listened to the sounds of the birds in the trees and the swishing grass in the wind for company. Tonight, she would have a treat of caramelized apricots with sheep’s milk cheese and crusty brown bread, the earthy creamy sweetness made her salivate in anticipation.

Honeysuckle’s sweet fragrance swam through the humid afternoon breeze, lending relief and a soft caress to the peak of the day. The season changing and orange blossoms blooming on the trees all up and down the canyon. Linen cloths hanging upon the line between large sycamore trees the light dancing and winking as the laundry swayed. Golden, citrine beams beautiful and pure across the worn plank table, scuffed and scratched from years of family use, Meyer lemons roasting in the oven, milk boiling on the stove for fresh ricotta, mouthwatering aromas that is what made the house a home, the feeling these scents, tastes and memories brought about was almost too overwhelming to step through the door. A glass of wine poured and a gesture to the well-loved leather chair, senses settling, a sigh of content, feet up glass in hand dripping with perspiration. The first sip, bright, quenching, and smooth.

Gracefully sashaying down the stone path lined and often covered by climbing jasmine vines, the sent was intoxicating and lively. Summer was upon them, the heat lifting from the stones through the soles of their feet, laughter echoed on the breeze and wrapped tightly around their hearts. Nothing could beat the freedom felt by a day of leisure soaking in the brine glittering pools, munching on tart plums, lying back in the sand after a long day in the sun, to watch the stars come out, one by one and telling stories of days past but never forgotten.