and OTHER Four letter words

How do you make love? I mean really, how do you make it, plant it, grow it, blend it, refine it, touch it, find it? Do you use your hands, your heart, your mind or money? Or do you resort to force and fear, firm principles passed down from fathers before? A little of everything, perhaps, diversity is your spice of life, your own special terroir? I think men learn, from society and culture, to use money, don’t you, more than anything else? I mean, not just to buy women in the oldest profession, but as a way to attract that supreme female, the Alpha if you will, one who can never be too skinny or too rich, or too French.

Speaking French, kissing, making wine, love, desire, more, to make it, refine it, taste it, drink it, even to share it.

So, how do you do it? All of it, or nothing? A little here, a little there? upside down, yogi-style, deep breathing, really feeling; or slowly touching, maybe alone? Actually, I don’t really mean physically, between a man and a woman. We all know how the birds and the bees work magic with mother nature.

I think you might be really traditional, thinking you are debonair, suave, smooth with the ladies. Do you think it is all in the head, or the heart? Do your words, specially in the beginning of the relationship, make all the difference? Or is it another physical characteristic, are you a real gentleman? Like the growing of grapes, and the prepping of soil, the pruning of vines. Or is it all in the waiting, the tempting residue white on the skin, that tells you exactly when to apply a little more push, a bit more muscle, quads in tall boots stomping on grapes?


“A little too personal, and all, I know; but how do you do it” is all that I am asking, in the art of making WINE, in Santa Barbara. How are they the same and different? I ask myself as I decide which route to take to the beach. The long way by the bike path, or shorter along the old highway, either way it would take us through the old lemon groves. You wouldn’t want to walk barefoot for fear of the thorns, and I am a little too edgy, but we’d take off our shoes at the sand and laugh.


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