January 10, 2019

Cercius Vielles Vignes

As I’m sitting here writing this blog, my husband and I both have a rare day off of work together.  A rare occurrence, we’ve already put away all the Christmas decorations, repotted all the houseplants, replaced a light in the closet, and done a fair bit of cleaning.

Now I’m working on my next blog and he’s watching television.  He likes documentaries.  He’s watching Planet Earth II. 

Now the rant.  I grew up on a farm.  I have eaten animals that grew on the farm.  Not a big deal.

I do not, however, need to spend my free time watching racer snakes eating baby iguanas.  Or watch baby birds die thanks to sticky seeds that prevent them from flying.

How does anyone find this fun and entertaining to watch? 

This is why I prefer fantasy fiction.  Usually the good guy wins.  And no one kills the pet dog. 

Rant done.  Onto the wine.

With the new year over, I’ve put away my sparkling wine for bottle of French red.  Sigh, it feels good and familiar.  A Grenache and Syrah blend, it’s full of raspberries and red fruit – something of light pick me up after the heavy reds of Christmas and overindulgent sparkling of New Year. 

Now we’ve moved onto penguins falling off cliffs.   I think I need to take my glass of wine upstairs and pick up a book.  I’m almost done with Drums of Autumn.  Maybe, if I’m lucky, no one else dies in the last two hundred pages.