Another voice from the peanut gallery

As another vintage passes every winemaker dreams of the magic brew, the combination to produce the beverage with a built in reputation to be a nectar of the God's. A color so luminescent it haunts ones vision. Aromas so powerful that it will release primal instincts in nearly all creatures. The magic alchemy of fermentation and its ability to separate and cast aside the ill effects of reality. The wonderful taste of the fruit of the vine and the support of the breath of the earth intertwined producing that sweet sense of euphoria. This pleasure will linger in memory until the next wave crosses the threshold of our face.

Too bad most of the wine produced is sent to the jugs and boxes of the world. True not all wine is art. Only in a perfect world. But then again all wine ends up urine.