Sometimes all it takes is a shift in timing to bring new intrigue to an otherwise very familiar face or place. This is what was evident last evening, when Carl and I indulged ourselves in a golf cart ride around the property after sundown. I was noticing the eerie light fog which had settled in our stand of oaks, so I grabbed my camera and off we sped into the impending night.
Past the stand of trees, we rode up into the vineyard to see the rows of still-sleeping vines disappear into the mist.
As it got darker and we zoomed back down the hill toward the winery buildings, the pole lights were glowing in the night, giving an effect reminiscent of some sort of "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" spaceship.
Around the winery itself, the lights were even more striking, illuminating the buildings, early-budding trees, and a nocturnal visitor.
But the coolest effect of the evening ride came once we scurried back behind the winery, to the crush pad. Because of the lights on the front of the winery, it looked as if the sun was actually starting to rise over the tanks and fermentation airlocks at their tops, like chimneys.
The shift in perspective was spooky fun. We see these scenes every day, but seldom at night, especially at this time of the year. What "dawned on me," besides the artificial sun over the winery roof, is how lucky we are to be stewards of such an interesting place, where the times of the day and year afford us different way of seeing and reward us with unexpected beauty.