Terroir

Pedal 60+ miles over two days with a wine pro, touring vineyards?

Sun-drenched countryside
Tastings & lively lectures
Charming B&B, gourmet al fresco meals
First Aid support vehicle 

Dreamer and I were younger then. I anticipated riding among laid-back retired folk in track suits. No need to splurge on Spandex, summer cotton would do.

We would, however, need mental grit—plus stamina for narrow, hilly roads. And triple-digits weather.

Mostly clueless about wine, might we awaken sleeper palates? How marvelous to return home savvier, sleeker, tanner, toting an elite vino for future celebrations.

Press Play: Opening Video Shot

Down-home Dreamer & Laurie meet The Athletes—chummy, bon vivant couples in Lycra: spin-cycle thighs, calves like rocks, state-of-the-art gear.

And perfect palates.

After downing glass after glass at each winery, they stacked the support van with crates of their favorites.

Even half-lit, they outrode us. Despite cracked pavement oozing tar in the heat, no one wobbled or overshot a curve. On and on they pedaled, lithe and laughing.

Lagging, we reached the last stop. No samples for us. We collapsed, spreadeagled, limp and panting.

Oh, how that shaded patch of grass cradled, cooled, and renewed us. A fleeting breath of Eden?

As for dinner, at dusk: sublime. Over dessert the wine guy explained terroir, the French word for natural regional assets as well as growth practices, the combination producing unique flavor, full-bodied character.

“Topography, climate, water and light, specific rootstock—all contribute,” he said. “Voila! One-of-a-kind taste encounters.”

Pause, to rewind

Pop a metaphorical cork with me and picture ancient Cana. Let the scene breathe . . .

Sunlit village wedding, a seven-day feast
Merrymakers in linen, multiple toasts
Backstage panic: “Not enough wine!”
Support intervention (surprise guest healer)

Jesus turned local water into an exceptional vintage. Perhaps, thereafter, attendees would compare every future sip to what they savored that day, in his presence, in that singular place.

Did the miracle enhance Cana’s terroir?

In my imagination, the community’s age-old exhilaration feels palpable.

I mentally replay our trip: the last vineyard’s lawn, a magic carpet, late afternoon sunlight shunting through vines. God soothing us amid waving grass. Granting us rest.

Fast-forward

These days, despite Dreamer’s health, we’ll stay put long as we can. Our home and surroundings sing back to us our unfolding story.

We’re also sinking new roots into soulful, life-giving practices to refresh brain and body.

Friends, some of you are re-grounding. Amid seismic shocks in a world madly cycling to keep pace, you’re reassessing how you want to live.

Perhaps, like the servants of Cana, doubts creep in: will there be enough to see you through?

Are you drinking in April light? Amid current shadows, are there effervescent moments that bubble up? Could watching for a surprise wellspring be one way we cultivate terroir of spirit?

Hitting pause

Alcohol’s taboo for us now, but past rituals echo:

Corks, released,
a prayer, then the pour,
the swirl and rising bouquet . . .

Still, when troubles grieve or rile or haunt us, terroir looks like a typo for terror.

Good thing the wonder-worker of Cana still regales his friends, slaking thirst. He still nurtures stamina and a sense of humor. “[T]hanks be to God,” the apostle Paul wrote, “who in Christ always leads us … and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him.”

Honest, artisanal joys and one-of-a-kind encounters await. Embrace them.

Author Joyce Rupp puts it this way: “Open, open, open us to the journey of love that is ours.”

Adonai-Shalom, Lord of Peace,
meet us on the ground you entrust to our care.
Make of every woe, a gate,
open to deeper wholeness at work.

Here’s a little song about becoming rich terrain for the Sower. (Recorded with Dreamer years ago)

Photo by Maja Petric on Unsplash 

More about shalom, from the archives