He kept logs in a spiral notebook but still couldn’t find a pattern. Marianne had made it look easy. He wished he’d asked more questions back then. Each morning, he would step outside with his coffee and survey the vineyard.
His knees hurt more these days, and the cold bit a little harder, but the land still gave him purpose. He’d tug weeds, test the soil, replace broken stakes. It was meditative. Healing, even. Until things began to change.