Snow Daze

Wednesday was the first open day that we had ever remained closed. Snow and ice and a tractor flat conspired to make the driveway impassable and I didn't really mind.

The calls started coming in at 7am. "Hey Brian, sorry to disturb you, but are we opening today?" We have a good staff of people. They care about the winery and they really enjoy the work and the customers. They wanted to work. "No, we're staying shut today" I replied. "I don't want any one risking their neck to visit BOW. I've already changed the voicemail message. Stay home and stay warm. It's a snow day." I actually heard disappointment on the other end of the line, "you sure? okay."

While I drank my coffee and wrestled with Barley and Justice, the lovely and surprisingly focused Sharon came into the kitchen in her jogging gear. She had on ear warmers over her ipod earbuds. "Going for a run! If that doesn't work I'll come back and go for a walk!" I was exhausted just looking at her. She is dedicated to working out each day and to me it is a wonder. She inspires me in so many ways.

I was off to the office. It's my view on the world on days like these. The computer has email and the Washington Post online, Facebook and Linked In. Itunes plays my favorites. As if it had been choreographed, Beck's lilting The Golden Age, sound-tracked the snow falling from the roof in small square sheets past my window, shattering below on the growing layers of snow. The sheets flipped and flitted and sailed as they fell and some traveled several feet outward from the wall of the garage below my office. They sharded beautifully upon touchdown.

More was happening just outside my window. Out beyond neighboring Oak Hill estate's ancient house was a soft wall of mist and snow. On clear days I can see to the Blue Ridge and above there would be the contrails of the Dulles people travelling their destinations. Not so this day. Everything was white save the buildings, trees, and vineyard. The occasional bird flew by, also brown and stark against the snowscape. Two hundred feet above the vineyard hovered my favorite bird of prey, a Sparrow Hawk; perfect and compact and prepared to drop and take a dark mouse betrayed by ice and snow.

So beautiful and tranquil, it again took me back to thoughts of Key West where the only ice to be found was in my banana daiquiri. The lovely and frenetic Sharon and I were walking its streets in 2005 when we decided to live our dream. She loved her boss and her commute but the job itself had long since ceased to be fulfilling. After years of trying to help by saying she should quit but instead just sounding judgmental, I finally asked the magic question the right way at the right time. (Gentlemen are you listening?) "If you could imagine doing anything other than your current job, what would it be?" Her answer floored me. "I have dreamt of checking the vines early in the morning with a cup of coffee and my dog at my side and mist over the hillsides. I don't know what I am checking for, but I am checking them." The lovely and visionary Sharon started us on this path and it has been made real here at Barrel Oak. And in the three years since, the lovely and very smart Sharon has become a wine maker: so very cool and astonishing!

I'm still amazed that we discovered our shared dream. When I was fifteen I wrote down five things that I wanted to be when I grew up. Race car driver...comedian...porn star...rock star...winery owner. Ah...the plot thickens. The first four goals would have led me away from Sharon who is as sensible and practical as she is lovely. With any of those first four I probably would have been dead by now as well. But that last goal...that last goal could work, except that I had long before forgotten that I'd had it as a life goal. In between I had opened and closed businesses, visited some of the most beautiful beaches in the world, lived abroad and learned Flemish, gone off to attempt the completion of my studies (several times), crashed several motorcycles, gotten drunk way too many times, loved way too freely, and suffered several sharp blows to the head. No surprise then that I had forgotten the list of life's goals by the time I met the lovely and infinitely patient Sharon. Then five years after our marriage she told me of her dream and I set out to make it real. Soon afterwards I came across an old journal and reading it I found the five goals. I stood rereading the journal several times and remembering that time when I was fifteen and full of the possibilities of the future. In that moment I was grateful to have lost the list and avoided succeeding in those misguided deeds. Most involved fame (or notoriety) and I am so glad that such has escaped me. The progression of years have taught me that anonymity provides joy, fulfillment, and freedom, and I am grateful to have been able to nurture such values. I am especially grateful to have met, wooed, and wed the lovely and very kind Sharon.