We pressed two bins of Zinfandel grapes at Del’s farm today. Del and another crew must have picked and crushed the grapes while I was in Canada. I am told there was a record amount of juice in these grapes. I have yet to use my feet, but I did use my hands to push down on the grapes in the press. Eventually three barrels will need to be pumped into the basement. The third bin of Barbera grapes will likely need to be pressed next week.
I was at the ranch mid-afternoon. I had just enough energy to play The Day Thou Givest, O Lord, Is Ended from the Methodist hymnal. The darkness falls at thy behest.
Clear skies and a half moon tonight. I am following the Great American Read on public television. The segment tonight was on books about finding identity, including Jane Eyre, Catcher in the Rye, A Separate Peace and my personal favorite, To Kill a Mockingbird. I was pleased to see that I have read three-quarters of the hundred books on the list. I will have to order Siddartha. A new study in the journal Social Science and Medicine proposes that reading four books a year can prolong your life. Apparently only eleven percent of the American public reaches that goal.
A Year at the Snake 