“This used to be a wheat field ” I said to myself as I sat on a garden chair shaded by mature oak trees.  This winery wasn’t here when I rode my horse along Berney Drive as a kid.  Leonetti’s was just a little bit up the road from the white ranch style  house where I was raised.   My brother Tim and I were wine tasting during the  annual  Walla Walla Valley  “release ” weekend. He had just asked “Where are the pea fields? Do they grow peas here anymore ?”  I said I thought they often rotated with wheat, but now I see many of the old wheat fields have  grapes. Red grapes: Merlot grapes and Syrah grapes and Cabernet grapes. Tim remembered the pea vines (no grapes back then)  falling off the truck as it rounded the corner near our house. We  devoured them  which horrified our mother.  I also remember riding through the rolling hills of peas and reaching down from the saddle to pull up some plants abundant with pods.  I split the pods with my teeth and sucked the sweet young peas out. Our pea gathering techniques were expressed differently, but in the event we shared a common memory, unusual for our difference in age.

A warm wind whispered in the trees. Some flower petals dropped on the pavement nearby. A young girl in a brightly colored frock brought clean glasses to the tasting room.  It whispered spring!

My brother recognized my fatigue and left me to sit.  He found the wine tasting room and returned with  a generous  portion of the winery ‘s famous Merlot.   I smelled the familiar fragrance of this wine just holding the glass in my hand.  When I brought it to my lips the taste brought back so many memories of special occasions, or even quiet dinners at home with my dad.  These memories whispered in my ear  “Remember when?”  Dad  would say “Charlie, why don’t you go down to the basement and bring up a bottle of wine”.”What kind?”  “Oh get some Leonetti’s Merlot “. An expensive choice for a quiet Sunday afternoon.   It whispered “content”

The voices around me were subdued.  This was a members only tasting.  The attendees may have been a bit more well mannered than the costumed crew we saw tumble out of the van at the last winery. Conversations were all around me. As the wine tasters
exchanged  dignified verbiage I imagined  whispers of the first time  they tasted Leonetti’s. Special occasions or occasions made special by good wine and food and family and friends. First times should always be spoken about in whispers, don’t you think?

Tim came back with sliders from the BBQ.  The meat was excellent. The sauce superb. We sat quietly people watching. An acoustic duo sang  folk songs of the 70’s.  Savoring each sip and eating the sliders slowly….one of  those rare times …It whispered   “perfect”.

In 7 days I will have the second programming of the neurostimulator.  Charlie and I will get up early Tuesday morning and drive through the beautiful Columbia Gorge.  Its a lovely drive, oh so very green in spring with the white water snow runoff cascading down the basalt cliffs. 

This moment I look ahead to that drive and the results of the visit to Oregon Health and Sciences University.

I want to shout   SPRING!  to the hillsides and wildflowers and waterfalls.

I want to shout CONTENT! to my husband of so many years
And to the doctor at  the completion of the programming I want to shout …PERFECT!

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