The only possible response to this is spelled in special characters: '#@*'
Enough, already with the snow. It’s like a poorly behaved guest who arrives far later than expected, causes disruption and general mayhem, and then hangs around preventing you from going to bed. Do I sound bitter? Let me explain…
Storm #1 directly conflicted with the New York Tre Bicchieri tasting. Fans of Pour Richard’s know we aren’t big on critics and scores, but Tre Bicch is different; out of the many many thousands of wines released in Italy each year, a few hundred win this award. These wines are worth your time, even in a ‘Bomb Cyclone’ snowstorm.
How to get there, though…I didn’t fancy driving all the way, or even to New Haven for the MTA. Amtrak was threatening cancellations. We ended up on the Peter Pan Bus out of Providence, which was…interesting. It wasn’t totally horrible, but I’m not saying I’d do it again. The trip was, however, absolutely worth it.
We found some superb wines. I was particularly excited to find several in (lower) price categories not usually represented there-all things considered, it’s easier to make transcendent wine for $100 than $20- and you’ll definitely be seeing some of these at the store. But it was also great to connect with some old friends.
I worked in that world for many years; I love owning the store, but do miss seeing some of the characters I used to work with. Old friends are often best, because they know you well enough to take liberties: twirl you around in a giant hug, call you by forgotten nicknames, and poke gentle fun at your shared past. It was a great day. Many laughs and a few cocktails later, we were on our way back home, just in time for the build-up to Storm #2.
My house was built in 1850. The magnificent tree in our backyard pre-dates that. It is a huge, majestic giant of a tree, the perfect tree to read a book under, to hold a tree swing, to host children climbing into it and hiding. It has provided shade to countless birthday parties and cookouts. It is the perfect spot to lie on your back, gaze through the branches, and watch the clouds drift by. But in recent years, it’s been showing its age, shedding larger and larger branches in each storm. The morning after high winds, I’d walk to the window with trepidation-was my tree still there?
Thursday morning, with no power at the store, I was cleaning snow off our cars when I heard an explosive cr-ack!! Turning toward the house, I was just in time to see the tree split, with a massive piece falling right on our roof. Miraculously, it then slid right off, causing very little damage. Good old house-they don’t build them like that any more. And good old tree-you will be sorely missed.
RIP, old friend.