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“The dark fruity flavor was overwhelmed by the other sensations the wine brought— the feel of sunlight on my skin and the weight of the heavy braids that fell to my waist, the hair that was long enough for Elan to wrap around his wrist and up his arm until he wore it like a sleeve. The smell of summer rain hitting the dry prairie soil; and at the same time, the smell of pine and water and mountain flowers, all distinct, present but not clashing. The knowledge that I was loved. That I was among friends. The pleasant soreness in my legs that came from climbing a mountain, the taste of just-picked berries and fresh bread made from flour ground that morning.” — Reena McCarty
The dark fruity flavor was overwhelmed by the other sensations the wine brought— the feel of sunlight on my skin and the weight of the heavy braids that fell to my waist, the hair that was long enough for Elan to wrap around his wrist and up his arm until he wore it like a sleeve. The smell of summer rain hitting the dry prairie soil; and at the same time, the smell of pine and water and mountain flowers, all distinct, present but not clashing. The knowledge that I was loved. That I was among friends. The pleasant soreness in my legs that came from climbing a mountain, the taste of just-picked berries and fresh bread made from flour ground that morning.