August 2. A winery.

August 2. A Winery.

Today I helped harvest a vineyard just outside of Waco. The work wasn’t grueling, yet the monotony of it all tends to become uncomfortable after a while. So where was my lesson for the day? I mean harvesting a vineyard…there must be some parallels or parables there, right?
Oddly, I’m not sure that I learned much from picking grapes from vines. The beautiful part was the conversations that took place among perfect strangers. About 15 people were sent out to harvest six rows of white grapes. The three other guys I went with quickly split up and did their own thing. The other 11 intermingled with us in a way that conversations were timed by the progress one was making down the vine. When anyone found themselves too far away to hold a natural conversation, the conversation ended. We’d work in silence for a while until the next person came along the other side of the fence/vine to work. I heard from doctors, teachers, etc. about their life experiences, their recent vacations to Hawaii, their kids, their passions (side note: any twenty-something who thinks the future of a progressively green nation lies OUR hands alone is so so wrong. I couldn’t believe the naturally green lifestyles of these older people. “What do we do with the grapes once they’ve been squeezed?....They’d make a great compost pile.” Really? I LOVE it!

What I don’t understand is why we don’t open ourselves up to such experiences more often. These are the best conversations and they always seem to happen while something productive//manual labor is being done—whether that’s in India, Mexico, Spain, or in the hot summer heat of Waco.

The other thing that excited me about today was the fact that the owners of the Vineyard are Swedish. They have the same accent as one of the Swedish girls who went to SLU-Madrid last semester. It’s refreshing to hear languages I can’t begin to understand. This couple has lived in the U.S. for about 15 years and they haven’t lost their European touch. Experiencing them today was like experiencing part of my home in Europe. It makes me proud to be alive, to call this planet my home. They live it up. The husband lives for wine. He knows everything anyone could ever know about it. Though he wears nice clothing, he appears more like a little kid in a candy shop than anything else. And his wife runs the wine-tasting bar inside their house. She gives us free samples of all of their wines and ports (even the ones that cost $40/bottle). She asks us “which one is your favorite” with joyful inquisition, a curiosity spurred on by the immense pride and authentic enjoyment that she reaps out of her lifestyle. She reminds me of a tame Willy Wonka showing off his candy factory. She cooked us lunch—delicious. She holds occasional dinner parties with up to 18-20 lucky people. She cooks them all types of American classics—New England Clam Chowder, Jambalaya from the south, and Cherry Pie from Nebraska…all to be washed down with her vineyard’s tasty port and maybe a piece of dark chocolate.
Flavor flavor flavor. Europe has definitely not left their core essence.