Several years ago I was living in Guerneville, and making wine for a small label in Santa Rosa. My boss at the time was nice enough to invite me and my fiancée to join him and his neighbors for a Fourth of July BBQ. The host had a home with a hillside view for the fireworks show promoted at the nearby school. There were a handful of kids running around, including my boss' son, a quirky 6 year old named Max. This is the same kid who asked to be a mop for Halloween the year before (and was a mop). Max had the adults laughing earlier in the evening, when his Dad was reminiscing about his annual traditions as a kid growing up in Sugar Pine. "Was that in the olden days, Dad?", Max inquired in earnest.

Later in the evening, dusk settling and everyone full and feeling merry, we positioned our lawn chairs for the show, random firecrackers setting off from local neighborhood driveways. The pops and booms began to echo around us. Little Max ran to his dad full of energy and wonder: "Is this the Grand Finale, dad?". It was sweet, clearly a new phrase discussed earlier that day. "No, Max. That's coming later". Then as the proper spectacle began, and the sky lit with bright, brilliant flashes, Max and his friends raced back from their vantage point to our huddle of chairs at least two more times later to confirm: "Is this the grand finale?!! (... Is this??)". Trust me boys, you'll know!, one of the moms reassured.

I don't remember much else from the evening. But I do remember the sounds and the smell. The warmth and electricity in the air. The gasps and giggles with each startling thunderclap. And, of course, the ending. I still smile thinking of the shouts of delight as the young ones absorbed the frenetic, unrelenting crescendos above, and all at once understood. Their chorus of voices in unison, at decibels rivaling what their eyes and ears now registered:"THE GRAAAAAANNNNND FINALEEEEE!!!!....."


While we wish there was more certainty with the end the pandemic, a true grand finale to celebrate, it seems like many of us are still holding our collective breaths. But even if not certain and final, here's to some bright lights and a little cheer now and again. We'll take all the small celebrations we can. It's been a hell of year and thanks to you all we're still standing here among friends, looking up into the skies with hope and anticipation. The shop has reopened. We are also looking forward to reopening the tasting bar this month, and expect to announce that and be pouring glasses and flights for you again very soon! Until then, let's channel some of little Max's wonder. Let's relish and revel in all the pop and sparkle along the way... all the recurring delight, the reaffirmations of joy. The feeling that this must be it. This must be it. That it can't possibly get any better. Like being in love. Like a sense of belonging. Or just feeling gratitude, I suppose.

Cheers,

Daniel