Let me tell you a story about my mother, Mrs. Broken Record, and flowers. As a toddler, she split her time between Quito, perched nearly three thousand meters above sea level in a narrow valley surrounded by active volcanoes, and Manta, a lazy coastal city known for supplying the world with tuna fish and Panama hats. Back then, every so often, my grandfather commandeered a rickety Jeep through the potholed country roads and, family in tow, zigzagged his way up into the paramo's nippy heavens or headfirst towards the Pacific Ocean's savory humidity. Poor infrastructure made the drive brutally long and potty breaks, specially for the children, were of utmost importance. My mother, already exhibiting signs of her now magnified intolerance of filth and foul smells, refused to go to the bathroom wherever her father or older siblings mandated, be it on a patch of dried grass, against a mossy rock or behind a tree. The girl would only pee on color-laden flowers. So when nature called for Mrs. Broken Record, the family was put on high alert. The Jeep would stop and they'd jump out to comb the land for signs of polychromatic plant life. I am not sure what this says about my mother but, given her penchant for cleanliness, fragrance and luxury, it's not entirely surprising.
Flower #1 |
2009 Tapanappa Pinot Noir, Foggy Hill Vineyard, Fleurieu Peninsula, South Australia - Raspberries, strawberries, top soil, coffee and parsley on the nose. Red fruit dominates on the palate. Light and well balanced but ultimately not very complex. 87/100.
Flower #2 |
1 comment:
Good blog post
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