The weekend ended up a serendipitous split between new spiritual experiences and experiences of the fermented kind. On Saturday, we did the usual Butler Street promenade and tasted a few wines at the Fenn Valley Shop in town. Let's just say the the Pinot Noir looked a tad clear and the hue of a rose', with a back flavor of some sort of hard liquor. To put it in a mild fashion, Michigan wines are not my favorite.
Before heading back to Chicago, we took a long walk with three dogs (see Carlos and Speedy) through the Fenn Valley Winery vineyards, close to where we were staying in Fennville. Glad to note that the numerous sun-filled rows of vines were at the same stage of development as the three little ones I'm trying to nurture in my backyard. Happy for the confirmation, since I hoped I was doing something right.