![]() He can actually taste the phantom grapes as he imagines them bursting between his teeth.Īs it slowly sinks behind the mountains, the sun sprays light so warmly colored and so mordant that, where touched, the darkening land appears to be wet with it and dyed forever. Curiously, the girl’s perfect features engender thoughts of succulent, sugar-laden bunches of pinot noir and grenache with translucent purple skin. ![]() He dreamily contemplates a mental image of Laura’s face, as detailed as a photograph. She is supposed to be in residence throughout this weekend. Paul and Sarah Templeton live in the house year-round, and their daughter, Laura, visits occasionally from San Francisco, where she attends university. Except for the barn, the largest structure is the owners’ Victorian house with its gables, dormers, decorative millwork under the eaves, and carved pediment over the front porch steps. The vineyards encircle a barn, outbuildings, and a bungalow for the caretaker. The colorful wild mustard that flourished between the rows during the colder months has been chopped back and the stubble plowed under. In the knee-high grass, he stands with his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket, studying the vineyards below. ![]() ![]() A cool breeze blows down out of the sun and fans through the tall dry grass, which streams like waves of golden fire along the slopes toward the rich and shadowed valley. The red sun balances on the highest ramparts of the mountains, and in its waning light, the foothills appear to be ablaze. ![]()
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