As the sun set the cool marine layer slipped in up to our bones and we finished tucking the growing vines behind the top wire. There was perfume in the vineyard but it wasn't hers. The grape buds of the Grenache vines were flowering and fragrance was in the air as we nipped and tucked the fat foliage with surgeon's skill trying to prevent the onset of powdery mildew.
It has been a long day from dawn to dusk and she asks, "What's for dinner?"
"Uuhhhh..." I stall. "Wine?"
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