THE SEX LIFE OF GRAPES
Just being in wine country, in this case the Paso Robles appellation, evokes a litany of feeling. I begin to imagine aroma and the treasure chest of tastes, varied and rich in diversity. There are days when those primer responses trigger companions like perhaps the fragrance of tomatoes and garlic in olive oil, or fennel and lemon sauteed in truffle oil.
Isn't it a bit like the endorphins that fire when you think of your lover, or take flight in your mind to moments of passion. The body follows the mind.
Seeing the fruit on the vine simply intensifies it all. Taste becomes luscious and from somewhere in the cosmos rushes in feelings of clear California light, Pacific breezes filtered by the mountain valleys of the Templeton Gap. It is ephemera, but it is vibrant and joyous. Like the hint of your mate's body revealed by a loose garment, or imprinted by a physique revealed by the way a shirt or pants fit or cling. Libido begins to smile.
So, this is going somewhere. By the time the fruit cluster meets the harvesting crew
ancient days and sexual ways have met. There has been a cosmic romance that has danced through soil, sun, vine, leaf and grape.
I NEVER KNEW.
IF THIS IS SO, PITY THEN THE POOR RAISIN!
SO DELIGHT IN BEING HUMAN, WITH URGES.
SEE YOU DOWN THE TRAIL