Pressing the Grapes

Yesterday was a gift. Sunny and warm as Ivo, Spiro and I pressed wine
at Murvica, mid-way down the south side of the island near Bol. The
setting there is unreal: behind, blue skies, white cumulus and the
towering grey-blue walls of limestone and dolomite; before, the open
channel and Hvar; amid vineyards still heavy with fruit slanting down to
the sea, only the faint sounds of the waves on the beach below audible.
Rock, sky, sea everywhere.

Always the opening of the spigot on the fermentation tub is a wonder to
me. The dark red wine bursts gushing out, bucket after bucket, seeming
as miraculous as water from a stone in the desert. Then comes the mild
work of pressing the remaining pulp for the rest of the new wine.
(Mild 'cuz Spiro did all the hard stuff.)

Later, although it was the 2nd of October, I went for a swim. Amen.