The sign flashed in front of the car as I was driving through the bucolic town of Amity in the Willamette Valley.
"Amity Vineyards", one of the first vineyards in Oregon, was painted on the 4 x 6 wooden board. There was a bit of paint peeling in the corner and blackberries graced the bottom of the pole it hung from. This simple unassuming sign prefaced an entire story line I created in my head as I continued to drive. The owner of the winery and my family had planted our grapes during the same years in the 197o's.
"Path of the Pinot Pioneers" is still in my head. I am waiting for the perfect time to get it out on paper, in between bouts of a persistent stomach flu that is traumatizing my children and countless other things that take precedence to the birthing process of article writing.
At least I know the story is there, in line with several others.
I'm composing stories in my head all the time. Getting them onto paper is another thing all together.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I know, right?
What all happened with the whole oral-storytelling thing?
Post a Comment