The way I will remember her is by her smile – it was a natural portal to her heart and a welcoming invitation into her life. And hers was a generous heart, one that was willing to understand, to assist; it was a gentle heart. I never heard an unkind word from her – she was always in helpful mode, and she worked industriously at a job she loved – at least I feel she loved it, because whenever I worked with her she went beyond what was expected. Her smile also held a little mischievousness, her sense of humor brought joy to my heart. She left the rat race of the regular work world to enjoy some time with her beloved husband; but the memory of her smile remained and was reignited whenever I walked through her old work place. She was a steadfast contributor to her church and a most dedicated parent/grandparent. But, she has been called to be with her God. She leaves a most memorable legacy of love, dedication and honor. I will go tomorrow to celebrate Marlene’s beautiful life and remember her smile.
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Today, I attended a memorial service for a young woman I have known for several years. Although we were not close, it was obvious to me that she possessed “joie de vivre” – intelligence, vivaciousness and vibrancy – she had a most engaging smile. I came to find out, though, that it was much more than simple joy, she lived life through her faith. She was a life time member of a congregation that encircled her and provided the foundation for that faith. Her family was her rock and set a wonderful example. She lived that example, and she lived it well. She pursued her career, community concerns and interest in sports with talent and gusto. I wish I had known her better; I’m pleased that we shared a particular affinity to a winery that will always be in my heart. She is gone though, and much too soon, in this mortal’s opinion; she was only 39. We don’t get to choose when we come into this world, or when we leave it. We can, though, develop a faith that will help us through our lives and provide us the ability to face whatever comes after – she had that faith. The service in her honor was beautiful, one that was much more uplifting than many I’ve attended. Death comes to all, but it is not the end. Jodi, you will be missed by those of us left in this world, and I like to believe that you are in a much better place
Indeed, as I am accumulating many more years (fortunately,) the ones of my youth are further and further recessed in the files of memory. However, one has resurfaced. For this, I thank a high school teacher – a journalist, an English teacher, annual staff advisor, friend. We reconnected via a social network. What a blessing. Anyway, most recently she wrote on her blog about a trip to New Hampshire, this hit a memory cord – thus, I am recalling my time spent in Vermont.
Just after high school graduation, my family and I moved north. First to Michigan, then to Vermont. We spent a longer time in Vermont, and my memories are much more pleasant of that state and that time. We moved in the fall – the air was sparkling and clear – the temperature most pleasant. We stayed in a local motel for a short period, and then we were able to find an apartment. I felt a little at loss since I didn’t have to register for any school, so I spent my time accompanying my mother doing household stuff. We weathered a winter (with two feet of snow and 20° below temperature.) Then, in the late spring, I found a job working for the YMCA day camp. While a counselor at this Y, I made a few friends. One weekend several of us got together to hike up a mountain called Mount Mansfield – this was the tallest in the Green Mountain chain. Not as tall as many mountains, but nonetheless, tall for that part of the world. When observed from an east or west vantage, the profile of the mountain looks like that of a long face – the chin is the highest portion. We hiked on one of the four trails, probably to the chin, since the trail was mostly under trees. It was a very lovely summer day – only slightly warm, the air was fresh with a slight pungency of composting undergrowth for seasoning. I’m thinking I was really naive about hiking, so I admit to a lack of deportment – I feel as if I complained all the way up. Huffing and puffing, each footing demanded a higher and higher step and one more groan. Geesh, I remember thinking, would we ever reach the top? I don’t recall if my loud complaints were noticed, but I was not chastised for my behavior. Anyway, if it was noticed, I do hope my fellow hikers have long forgotten and forgiven my transgression. At long last, my groaning was rewarded. Trees thinned, and soon there were none. We were now above the tree line. I do remember gasping in awe. Standing on the bedrock of mica-albite-quartz and gradually looking around me, I regretted every groan. The view from this point was wonderful – I could see New York and Lake Champlain on the west, New Hampshire on the east. The breeze gently tossed my hair, yet felt like velvet on my face. The sun gave a little more warmth. I don’t think we spent too much time on the top, as we needed to hike back down. However, it was much easier going back and I think it was partially due to the memory of what I had just seen. So, thank you Ms. G., friend and fellow blogger, for instigating my recollection. Okay, it is really hot outside – so hot that eggs could really fry on the sidewalk – this is NOT exaggeration. Still, one needs to eat something. Because I don’t want to fire up the stove, I decided on another salad. Yesterday I had a green salad with a boiled egg added (you can boil several eggs at once without heating up the kitchen – this was done days ago.) Today I decided on a tuna salad. Truthfully, it has been a long time since I wanted a tuna salad – I used to eat it regularly, that and egg salad. My usual recipe for tuna salad includes binding it with Miracle Whip ™, one of my long time favorites. I also usually buy those single serving tuna packages – economical and smart. I had two of these packages in my pantry. Well, I prepared the other ingredients for my tuna salad, I don’t use onions, and I like a sweet/tart salad that diminishes the fishy flavor. I get the salad dressing from the fridge, it’s practically a full jar, open it and notice it looks a little more gelled then usual. Hmmmm, I wonder. Well, I mix it in with the tuna anyway and plate the salad on top of a layer of fresh baby spinach to serve it with slices of paired apple and a slice of whole grain English muffin. This looked yummy. First taste, not so good! Flavor off, a bit flabby, not tart, but stale. Hmmm, well, I looked at the jar of salad dressing, squinted my eyes and was finally able to read the ‘use by’ date – it indicated that particular jar should have been used by June 2014!!!! Good grief, I say to myself, ummm, no wonder it is stale in flavor. Geesh! Although refrigerated, nothing should be expected to be that good that far past its shelf life! I hadn’t realized that I hadn’t had a desire for tuna salad in that length of time. (Mind you, the tuna’s expiration date was not until the end of this year!) I hate waste, I’m sorry I bought such a large jar. I will see if a smaller jar is available – maybe I’ll buy one, maybe not. I just don’t use that kind of salad dressing that often any more. And, I’ve now discovered that tuna, with a good helping of sweet pickle relish and chopped apple, is pretty durn good without the extra salad dressing. So went my lunch preparations today. A glass of chardonnay made the “medicine” go down a bit better!
There was not too much travel in 2009, however in May of that year, I was lucky to take a short trip to the west coast with my daughter – we had a good flight, but a cool rainy day arrival. After touching down at SEATAC airport, the schlepping of luggage from baggage claim was even greater than expected – up an escalator, up in an elevator, down an elevator to a car rental van pick-up area, over to the rental place………anyway, so began a lovely trip. The mountains (Cascades) that we drove through were still covered with snow. Breathtaking! When arriving at our final destination three hours from landing at SEATAC, the little Bed & Breakfast in apple country was slightly less than expected. Still, the proprietor was lovely and we had a huge room; apple trees surrounded the property. The day after arrival, we visited several wineries in the Yakima Valley (one of Washington State’s AVAs.) Oh joy, lots of food, good wine, and lots of driving with a few directional challenges. It was nice to come back to our little B&B. The following day, after a fabulous breakfast, we returned to Seattle, armed with good driving directions to our Seattle hotel provided by a couple staying at our B&B. We found The Inn at Queen Ann with no difficulty. Here was an old building, circa 1928, once used as a dormitory for nuns (no elevator – fortunately we were only on the second floor.) Once settled in the quaint but adequate room with kitchenette, we walked the area, the water front, and studied the bus route. The waterfront area became well known as we traversed it again on Saturday on the way to Pier 52 for the ferry to Bainbridge Island. Once on Bainbridge, we visited with a friend I had not seen in years and had a totally lovely lunch. I adored the ferry ride. The next day we spent in Woodinville, a few miles northeast of Seattle, visiting several boutique wineries in that area. Truly lovely! Our favorite was Novelty Hill/Januik Winery housed in a contemporary building with a lovely patio – we stopped here twice. On Monday, we walked the city central, Pike’s Market, and visited Seattle Public Library (One wonderful place, only five years old at the time; built with lots of glass, steel and sustainable material. Their book return conveyor belt was fascinating. They were using RFID.) At any rate, it was hard to leave Seattle – and yes, because it definitely wasn’t easy getting a traveling companion up before 5:00 a.m. to get to the airport! (Good thing we did leave early, since we had to return the car, and then get to the gate schlepping luggage via elevators and escalators!) Seattle, hope to visit again!
Just about thirty minutes ago I was listening to a local news cast – the topic: changing the names of streets and buildings that use names of confederate persons. The leader of a well-known group was being interviewed, he said this about changing the names….”….we’ve got to correct history.” Well, my friend, we cannot ‘correct’ history; we can only begin to change the future. What is history is just that. While I can understand that the Confederate battle flag turned into more of a negative symbol than its original intention, I am glad it is not being displayed to create further negative feelings. I do, however, take issue with changing names of schools and such with, specifically, the name of Robert E. Lee. And, I take issue with some that have compared him to Hitler. In no way should that have ever occurred! Acquaint yourself with history, people!
Robert Edward Lee was a West Point graduate, a superintendent of West Point for three years, and a lieutenant colonel of the 2d Calvary for the Union, stationed in Texas, until the secession of Virginia and the Civil War. He had no sympathy with secession or slavery – he loved the Union. But, it was his tradition and his loyalty to Virginia that came first. He did resign from the Union army because he didn’t want to fight against Virginia – before that, he was offered the field command for the Union Forces, which he declined. Later, of course, he became a general in the Confederate Army. His men loved him. He was kind, gentle, courtly and an excellent military leader. He was, in my opinion, subjected to forces of things beyond his control. After the war, he became president of Washington College. He was a great man! My heritage is from the north, I was born in Pennsylvania. But, I recognize a great person and I honor his memory. It is appropriate for schools to be named for such a dignitary. Did you know that he was married to a great-granddaughter of Martha Washington? She was Mary Anne Randolph Custis Lee – the land deeded to her, is now part of Arlington National Cemetery. The Lee house, in which she and Robert lived, now sits on the site of one of our greatest national monuments. So, please before you go off comparing Lee to Hitler, get your facts. It is a most despicable comparison and definitely unfounded. If you want to change the future, know your correct history. In spite of Hurricane Ike, a trip to France in September of 2008 actually occurred. It was definitely destiny. Although the week prior to leaving was certainly filled with angst (that’s another story) the skies cleared and the way to the airport was secured (although gas not that plentiful.) Nevertheless, on Sept. 18th, “Au revoir” was said to Houston, and “Bonjour” to Paris. The flight was most relaxing, and the entry into Paris quite without event, arriving ahead of schedule and waltzing through customs. Next destination: a train station, Gare de Lyon, and the train to Dijon. France is just beautiful. Paris behind us, the terrain opened up to rolling green hills. Once in Dijon, we found ourselves situated in a homey, yet charming (but no elevator) hotel on a quiet street in Dijon. Before collapsing, though, we put on our walking shoes and began to get acquainted with one of the culinary capitals of the world. The weather was delightfully cool, no need for A/C; a jacket, though, was needed. First on the order of “business” was finding some food! Our friendly clerk (“Je parle francais petit peu, parlez-vous Englais?”) was genuinely helpful and directed us to a market area with bistros and restaurants. We also found a grocery store in the same market area and loaded up on water. Since this area wasn’t far from our hotel, we would return numerous times. The next day, after petit déjeuner (breakfast), we set out for a longer walking tour of Dijon discovering a multitude of lovely shops, wonderful buildings, the Palais de Duc (of Bourgogne) now housing city offices and a museum, the Bibliotheque Municipale, lots of cars, and narrow streets. Wandering back to our hotel, we had a picnic dinner and turned in. Our first day in France was over! Because of our proximity to Switzerland, we took a 2.5 hour train ride over to Lausanne, Switzerland. Lausanne is right on Lake Geneva. A town literally built on a hill. We walked out of the train station (oh, forgot to convert to the Swiss Franc, no cash to spend, places would not accept Euros) across the street to the bottom of the hill of this city and then up, up, to shops and the town center. Lausanne’s history goes back to Roman days, yet little is left of all the previous centuries. A medieval tower and some Gothic buildings do remain. Visiting for a day didn’t give us enough time to really see the city – and since it was a Sunday, most of the shops were closed. However, the city was preparing for a national holiday the next day – there were several outdoor concerts in progress which we enjoyed during our walking tour. Before dark, though we were headed back to France. On the return train, we were told that we were not supposed to use our French Rail Pass from Switzerland back into France – the conductor was quite patient as we discussed this in limited French and English and paid the additional fare. Monday dawned – we resumed our Dijon “walking tours”, but, by mid-morning it was decided to take a short train ride down to Beaune, the center of the Bourgogne region (just south of Dijon). Getting the ticket was a challenge; since the station was being renovated we had a bit of fun finding the correct ticket window! But we hopped aboard a late morning train for the short ride. The country side was spectacular, vineyards galore! Beaune is fabulous; charmingly quaint, gorgeous limestone buildings with colorful roofs, wonderful outdoor restaurants, parks and oodles of wine shops! Once again, hunger pangs were answered first. After déjeuner, we wondered through Beaune and discovered many caves (wineries) – one was selected for a lovely tasting. This was the first formal tasting in the Bourgogne area and what a great choice – the product was most enjoyable. All too soon it was time to head back to the train station. (Tip: be sure to pay attention to which side of the track the station is on when arriving – else you might end up on the wrong train and have to get off to wait for the right one in the opposite direction! Ho hum!) As a change of pace, a guided tour was booked for the next day. We had the morning, though, to traverse Dijon so we returned to the Bibliotheque Municipale. When we entered the building we had discovered on Saturday, a studious quiet enveloped us. Going directly to the two catalog computers we noticed as we entered, we found the ILS very user friendly. We managed to navigate through the system with our minimal knowledge of French. We found that the Dijon library system had popular authors like Patterson and Crichton. The branch we visited was the research branch (this building was constructed in 1622, and restored in 2004) with large study tables, traditional lighting and alcoves of books off the main study area. The research location was also an archive. There were three branches in the downtown area “Centre-Ville”: the research location, one for adults and one for youth. Several other branches were located in the outskirts of Dijon. Should you have a desire, here is the website: www.bm-dijon.fr. What a perfect place to study, but we didn’t tarry too long as the time to meet for our tour was approaching. Upon making the connection with our tour guide, we found that being transported in a comfortable van was a treat as we followed the curves of the Bourgogne Canal in the Ouche Valley. One of the stops was at a medieval town and castle, Chateauneuf en Auxois, which was situated high in the hills of the Cote de Nuits. After visiting the castle, the tour took us through some of the most gorgeously green wine country in the world. This then led to the highlight of the day (for me), a tasting at Clos Vougeot, one of the most famous wineries in France. After the tasting, we drove past a vineyard near the Clos which was being harvested. In one of the small towns also associated with Clos Vougeot, we stopped at a place where some grapes had just been pressed. Only the pinot noir grape or chardonnay grape is supposed to be grown in this region. When we returned to Dijon, we began preparations for departure. The next day, goodbyes were regretfully made to Dijon. Back at Gare De Lyon in Paris, it took just a few moments to become acclimated and find the taxi stand. Once this was done, the trip to our hotel was fairly pleasant – over the Seine, past Nortre Dame and then arriving at a small hotel on a quiet street not too far from Arc de Triomphe, on the northern edge of the 8th Arrondissement. With our bags stowed in our temporary abode, off we set to explore the area. Once again in need of dinner, we asked for guidance. We strolled the Champs Elyssés, and then found a grocery store to purchase our picnic dinner. So ended our first day in Paris. In the next two days, we found our way to various places. First we walked to the Tour d’Eiffel, then through some lovely gardens nearby, and then returned to the hotel. After lunch, we found the Musée Rodin and delighted in all of Rodin’s wonderful sculptures including “The Thinker.” The Musée du Louvre was next on the list. So the next day we walked down Champs Elyssés once more, crossed the Place de la Concorde and went through Jardin Tuileries. In itself, the Louvre would take days and days to really tour thoroughly. There was some confusion about admission tickets; however, upon solving that issue, we began our self-guided tour. With map in hand, we did manage to find the Mona Lisa, Napoleon’s chambers, a wing depicting history of the Louvre (viewing the subterranean medieval foundation) and a wing with several sculptures including Venus d’Milo. After a delicious lunch at one of the Louvre’s elegant restaurants, we finished our tour. Even though slightly exhausted, we managed to find our way to Notre-Dame. This is truly an inspiring cathédrale, awesomely spiritual even with hundreds of people traipsing through. The evening found us strolling the Champs Elyssés one more time as we bid farewell to Paris. Although the trip to the airport was uneventful, the line at the airline check-in area was very long. It took over an hour to get properly checked in and to process through security. Then, a long trek to the gate, we did manage to take advantage of duty free shopping. We just had a short wait for our flight to board. And finally, after a nine hour flight, arrival in Houston was accomplished. “Au revoir Paris, Bonjour Houston.” Although the travel was over for me, my friend’s saga continued, almost ‘ad infinitum’. Thanks, good friend, for being such a marvelous travel companion and really good sport. Things definitely change over the years, a recognized fact. Little did I even think, though, about what life would be like when I graduated from high school fifty years ago. Oh my, it seems like a dream in which I am admitting it has been that long. Honestly, I wasn’t much in command of my life in 1965 because just after graduation, my family moved. And, I was so naïve! However, due to what I’ll call my mom’s “illness”, we took to the road. My dad had a job offer in Michigan; of course he believed his family should be around him. Thus, my life was a bit nomadic again after graduation. We lived in Michigan, west of Detroit, for a few months, and then we moved on to Vermont. I loved Vermont. Finally, we were back in Texas and I gradually took ownership of my life, although solid future plans still eluded me. College was actually a possibility, for which I am eternally grateful. There were a few snags with registration that were solved, and on I went with my life. Once I was in college, I began to feel more responsible for my own future. I did live at home, but this was for economic reasons and the college was practically down the street. I hold a multitude of memories of all these years, and some of my fondest are of my last two years in high school.
These memories are cluttering my head – in a good way. So many reminiscences have surfaced; keeping up with the plans of the reunion precipitated the flood. Even though I was a newbie to Texas and to the school system, I quietly tried to fit in. Yes, I was a Yankee from New Jersey moving to a southwestern environment. When I arrived in 1963, I fully expected to see dirt roads and cowboys on horseback – my preliminary image of Texas had definitely suffered. Well, that image changed. That first summer, though, not yet being in school, was difficult because I knew no one and it was majorly hot! At the end of the summer, I began attending a brand new high school. I felt the excitement of all those walking the halls that year. As a junior, I was part of the elite upper classmen group – juniors were lucky because we were really “seniors” for two whole years! That first year was special since we all contributed to making decisions that set the traditions for the school. I met some wonderful people, participated in good classes (Typing was one of the better classes that prepared me for the future), and activities (Future Teachers, Annual Staff.) Little did I realize that there were some undercurrents of unfairness in treatment of gender in some classes. Didn’t I say I was naïve? But, I enjoyed my years in high school. Home economics classes were great, and I loved sewing – I made my senior prom dress as a project for my home economics’ class. Certainly my original Texas image had faded because of walking those high school halls, fun pep rallies (Y’all yell now), football games, rides to Pal’s and cautious dating. I digress, however, for it is the people that I had especially wanted to remember. As I mentioned, my life was a bit chaotic after graduation and there didn’t seem to be any way to keep the liaisons I had formed. I didn’t want to move. The result, I lost touch. After I had been attending the local college for a while, I learned that many of my high school mates had also attended. They had started right after graduation, and thus were ahead of me. Of course, many chose other majors. I only re-established one important relationship when I returned to Texas – I later let that one go. My life, then, became centered around college activities, meeting new people, part-time work; later, full-time work, part-time school, marriage, involvement with a service sorority and a decorating group; and then, divorce, re-marriage, master’s degree program, parenthood, divorce, professional responsibilities and other things that occur, especially if you are blessed with life. I had attended a ten-year reunion, but I didn’t do anything about maintaining those tenuous liaisons and went on my own merry way. There was a thirty-five year hiatus between the ten-year and my re-establishment of contact with high school folks. During that forty-fifth reunion, I did make contact with several special people. I am most grateful. However, I discovered that a few of the folks for whom I had fond memories, were deceased. And now, with the fiftieth in the past, there are still several that I would love to know about – but they are on the “no information available” list – many search attempts have been made. Even in this day of a plethora of ways to get information, they still escape discovery. However, they live on in my heart with the same freshness that I had when I first knew them. As many of us have gradually realized, life is often both favorable and not so favorable. This enforces the desire to solidify whatever good relationships from the past that we can. These relationships are sweet, remembering those who are no longer with us, is of course, the bitter part of it. I am fortunate to have lived long enough to experience this – so, I definitely want to hold on to whatever liaisons I now have. I am most grateful for my life and am especially grateful for the memories, bitter and sweet. What some of us forget is that police persons are human beings – they have feelings, they have families. They come from diverse backgrounds and serve a multitude of communities. What they have, which is beyond most of us, is the courage to help uphold our laws. These are laws which we want enforced, which either we, or our forefathers, passed. We expect our police forces to be there to protect us – on moderate salaries. We ask that they have the ability to make quick assessments and judgments of situations. We don’t want our homes invaded and our property taken or destroyed, we don’t like smash and grabs, we don’t want drive by shootings, we don’t want people running red lights, we don’t want to be victims; we want our laws upheld, our families safe. Police put their own lives on the line daily – one never knows what situations will occur. Walk a mile in their shoes before you judge, before you say that a particular action was wrong. Look at all the information, the media does not provide it all, and neither do those personal videos – which are often so distorted it is hard to really assess what happened. We should not judge before we know all the facts, yet that is what happens causing more strife, more loss. It is my belief that the media, in many situations, fuels the fire with interpretation, not facts. Don’t let emotion make your decision. Cool it, and respect the uniform.
Ever since the end of college and the real empty nest occurred, my daughter and I have tried to spend some weekends together whenever possible (and some vacations as previously reported) – busy schedules permitting. Either I go visit her, or she me (we live about 200 miles apart, and my weekends were often spent working.) In May of 2008, though, to commemorate Mother’s Day, we had a lovely two days in Austin. I arrived first and settled in to our nice, comfortable modest motel. I had picked one on the west side of Austin, on Loop 1, because we were going to do some winery visits. Indeed, my love of wine had infiltrated my daughter’s life as I had dragged her to California on a wine tasting trip to simulate the Sideways experience. We are a good pair! The Texas Wine industry was beginning to really ramp up and I wanted to visit some of those about which I had heard. It was still pretty early when my daughter arrived, so we, with cooler in the car, headed out to find some of the producers of this grape ambrosia.
Finding Hwy. 71 with no difficulty, we headed west. Traffic notwithstanding, I had forgotten how I love the Hill Country! The craggy, hilly terrain was peppered with greenery and a hefty dose of dusty rock escarpments. Walled roads curved and curved opening to surprising vistas of hills beside you – in some places, it seemed as if you could see forever. Reaching a flatter area, we consulted our Texas Wineries’ Map – remember, seven years brings many changes in technology, we were not at the point of using phone apps – no GPS just yet. To our delight, the first winery we located was a charming place, much like one would think an Italian Villa would look. We found Flat Creek in the hills near Singleton Bend overlooking a lovely vista. Sitting in a tasting room on 80-acres, we enjoyed tastes of a variety of wines including their “Super Tuscan” which boasted the Sangiovese variety. Our palates whetted, we discovered Spicewood Vineyards next, down a dirt road over some cattle guards and in a cool location surrounded by trees. Opened in 1995, the winery had a deep cellar beneath their Hill Country style tasting room; the atmosphere was calming. It wasn’t crowded, so the young man doing our tasting was able to spend some time. I wish I remembered all we tasted of the mostly dry wines and more specific facts – however, my general impression was enjoyable. I do remember that we felt the young man was knowledgeable and able to answer questions. Spicewood has since changed ownership, but still makes quality wine. Our last winery of the day, since it was getting close to 5:00 in the evening, was McReynolds Winery. This one was also fun to find – down more two lane roads finally locating a cozy log cabin tasting facility. From California, the owners had once done research at Stanford University. Moving to the Hill Country with that and some wine making expertise, they began their endeavor. Their grapes are purchased from Texas vineyards and their menu features many good reds. So ended our Friday of relaxing wine tasting. Saturday morning dawned; we breakfasted and prepared our next jaunt. Since most wineries don’t open until 11 or 12, we felt we had some time to enjoy a leisurely morning. As we headed out, we decided to take Hwy. 290 west, toward Fredericksburg. There were so many wineries from which to choose, and now in 2015, there are many more! Wanting to enjoy our time, we ended up visiting only four wineries. All were fun, all were different, and all had good wines of various characteristics. Not making tasting notes, I won’t be specific. However, we choose to visit Grape Creek first. This lovely winery also had a definite Tuscan countryside Villa feel. At the time we visited, the vineyards were fairly young since they had replanted after freezes and rootstock disease. Having been in business since 1985 (the current facility finished in 1989), they brought grapes in from other parts of Texas to make their delicious wines. We had a picnic on the patio and enjoyed a glass of the vino with our snack. Not really wishing to leave the ambiance, we did, though, move on to our next winery. Torre di Pietra Vineyards was down the road from Grape Creek. Here we discovered another attractive winery setting with a Mediterranean feel. It had been open since 2004 and was decidedly popular. There were a few whites, and several reds – some dry wines, and several sweet wines (both white and red). The tasting experience was a bit hurried and I felt a little hassled, not able to enjoy the atmosphere. Having completed our tasting, we moved on down the road. Down another dirt road, off of 290, we discovered Woodrose Winery – open since 2002 (vines planted in 1999.) The tasting set up was interesting, we were seated at a table and the wines brought to us. Since that time, they have expanded their menu. I need to return to taste their Vermentino. At any rate, we enjoyed that respite, but moved on to our next and final location. Becker Vineyards, established in 1992, boasts 46 acres of vineyards with 3-acres of lavender fields nearby. A combination of old and new with the new barn style tasting room near an 1880 log cabin, Becker produces many varieties of white and red wines. There were over 15 on the menu; you chose six wines to taste. Their wine making efforts have been rewarded with a large distribution in Texas. At the time we visited, their purchase of Bluebonnet Hill Vineyard in Ballinger in 1997, had definitely added to their productivity. This was a lovely visit and the two-day experience was a pleasant Mother’s Day time. It, and our fun time in California, was the beginning of several wonderful wine tasting trips to come. |
AuthorWelcome! Ginny Harrell's various thoughts and experiences, and an attempt at re-invention through words. Please also refer to the "About" page. Archives
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