A bunch of rosés.

Although there hasn't been much rain since I have been home it has been extremely blustery. Extremely blustery.  In other words, the weather has been anything but rosé-weather.  I was hoping that whilst I was here I could perhaps enjoy a glass, or two, of a nice pink vino with a leisurely lunch, or dinner.  No such luck. (Although I did have a nice glass of Frascati after the Grand National.)
If the weather had been nice, and a tasty rosé had been in order, I would probably have had a hard time picking just one to buy.  The selection of rosés available in the local Sainsbury's supermarket is rather extensive, I wish it was like that in my Napa supermarket.
I may still have time to partake of something pink, but only if the weather cooperates.  For now, I will just imagine that I am sitting in the Napa sun with a glass of a nicely chilled rosé in my hand and my trusty poochie, V2, who I am missing like mad, by my side.

Easter Saturday viticulture.

Peeking down into this milk carton one can see a baby Pinot grigio vine doing what it does best, reaching up for the sun and growing.  Planted last season, this young vine is replacing a weak vine that just didn't make it; a rebirth of sorts, apropos of the season methinks.

A little Easter Saturday salsify.

Every spring, in amongst Vinoland's landscaping (such as it is), up pops one, or two, Common salsify (Tragopogon porrifolius) plants.  Whereas I'd normally weed out other interlopers (such as vetch, burclover or bittercress), I have come to recognise this rather alien-looking, Mediterranean-native biennial when it is young, so I leave it be.  Salsify, with it's tap root that is cultivated as a culinary vegetable (reportedly tasting mildly like an oyster), has a solitary purple flower that opens in the morning and tracks the progress of the sun until it closes up at around midday - which is the reason why I couldn't get a photograph of this flower yesterday afternoon because, by the time I got my camera, it was already done for the day.
When salsify goes to seed the fruiting head resembles that of a dandelion with a large, fuzzy ball of seeds that disperse on the wind.  This efficient dispersal of seed accounts for the success of salsify's reappearance, and rebirth, every spring.  Appropriate for Easter methinks.