I enjoyed my holiday visit to Napa this weekend. We had many firsts this year with my mom along for the festivities. The meeting of the moms, my first two pie crusts from scratch (under M's supervision of course), and a few bottles of F's unlabelled velvety smooth reds from Wing Canyon.
It's so quiet up there. Quiet and dark--especially at night in the hot tub with the vapors curling upward toward the dank treetops and the black ceiling freckled with stars. In the mornings, we had a spectacular mist that hung around the high waists of the Redwoods. It was very picturesque.
In between sitting by the wood-choked fire pit and sharing family stories as their fuzzy cats laid strewn across our laps, we took a long walk on the mountain road that twists around the ridge that defines Napa Valley. Pockets of vineyards would spring up against the backdrop of rock and bay laurels as we made our way--homes were tucked in the crevices of the mountain with glorious views of the valley.
What a great visit. I'm glad that we were all together this year.
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