Deep colors held will tell a story vicariously through the consumer, the connoisseur.
Stomach with feel; with emotion-deep, can bare this liquid strong and sweet.
But savor does the tongue, and the nose, the aroma; a common place on the table; however, few vines are grown in Minnesota.
The sun, and the day, the ground and the water, brought us this treat of esteem to ponder.
As I sit I take in this pleasure from heaven; I question the price it cost me?… In dollars it was seven.
I could have left but my wine kept me. I probably should be here either way. I sit at a black-wire mesh table in front of the French Meadow Bakery in Uptown-stood up for an interview-so, I am drinking the wine I order before the supposed interview. I thought, I can do whatever I want during this interview, getting an interview and going is like a hobby for me. I love to disappoint, apparently. I wait, but I am not surprised or discouraged. I figured it was a scam, maybe they wanted me out of my house so they could rob me, shoot me, or beat me up. Nothing like that happened. I may have avoided a sexual encounter, maybe my house would have blew up with me in it, yet I think I was cock-blocked by an interview. This is a first. I drink as if I want everyone to notice me, but I am sometimes too shy to talk.
It is a beautiful day, although the weather has not been consistent.