Branching out.

Vinodog 2 and I get a little bored on our regular walk sometimes, so, now and again, we like to branch out and try new routes.  For several months now, we have been ambling, daily, up the hill behind Vinoland.  Well, it's not exactly ambling for me and I'm quite sure V2 finds the extremely steep section at the top a little easier on her four legs than I do on my two.  Phew!
It is on this daily walk that my dog and I just recently became acquainted with Phacelia ramosissima, commonly known as brancing phacelia.  A winsome little weed that is part of the Boraginaceae family (its familiar curving cyme did indeed remind me of fiddlenecks), branching phacelia can be very variable in appearance.  The local phacelia has white flowers, but they can also be blue; it can be prostrate or upright; it can be hairless to very hairy; it can have bell or funnel shaped flowers.  Interestingly, or at least I think it is interesting, like Vitis vinifera, this phacelia species is hermaphroditic.
I have no idea who the tiny interloping insect is.

A snake in the grass.

Or rather, a snake in the California burclover. This afternoon, I was just about finished shoot-stuffing in the Syrah vines when I turned around and spotted this little fellow.  Actually, he wasn't very little at all, he was probably a good 28 -30 inches long.  Mr. Gopher Snake (Pituophis catenifer catenifer) was very cooperative, he patiently waited whilst I ran up to the house to get my camera and then again whilst I positioned myself, like him, on my belly for his photo shoot.  But not before I had a quick look at the end of his tail, just to make sure (and he had a quick smell of me with his tongue).  When we were done I got up to see where Vinodog 2 was (making a nuisance of herself) and Mr. Snake quietly slithered off.  Hopefully he was going to make himself useful in performing his job and disposing of a gopher, or two.  One can hope.

Pooey-Fuissé.

I have been having fun trying some older vintages lately, but it's been hit or miss.  Older wines can be great, or really bad.
This 1959 bottle of Domaine Burrier Pouilly-Fuissé, from the cellar of Vinomaker's father, will remain unopened.  I have no desire to ingest this wine; the volume of the bottle has decreased by about a third over the last 54 years, the wine is very brown, and it scares me a little.  The capsule has really deteriorated and the cork resembles something that one would find growing on a dank forest floor.  This bottle is best left alone.  The Burrier family are still working their Burgundian magic on Chardonnay to this day, but even if this wine was a more current vintage I'd still be reluctant to try it.  I'd take a stripped down Chablis any day over the oakiness of the Mâconnais.