Wednesday, we racked our homemade wine for the first time, siphoning it into a new container to remove the lees, the mush of dead yeast that accumulated over the last month.
The authors of the four or five wine making books I use all talk about this process as an opportunity to taste the wine, and seem to regard it as a pleasant activity. It may be for some; there are also those who can put in a full day’s work after a “three martini lunch.” I’m not one of those people. Continue reading
Part of what makes this place so beautiful is the amazing changes caused by subtle alterations in light. I’ve been looking forward all winter to what we call a “sepia day,” and today we got it.
Sepia days are wintry days when the combination of cloud cover and sunlight washes out the colors, and puts a slight brownish, “sepia” tint over everything, as if we lived in an old-fashioned daguerreotype. The brown, I must point out, is a trick of the light, not pollution.
The homestead beach on a "sepia day." No manual color correction. (Photo: Mark Zeiger)
Unfortunately, it’s hard to capture this in a photograph, as our cameras struggle to “correct” what must be anomalies in “normal” color.
