2005 Grifalco Aglianico del Vulture

As a native east coaster, I have to admit that I had my fears of moving out west, mainly for one reason: the lack of seasons. Fall is by far my favorite of the four, when the leaves start to turn and the foliage paints the landscape into a fire pit of colors: red, orange, yellow.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I found the fall colors to be just as vibrant - if not more - in northern California as they are back in New York state. With the added bonus of the cool, yet more mild, temperatures and the mountainous backdrop, I actually quite like autumn west coast style.

And the icing on the cake? Grapevines change color, too! Once the grapes have been picked and the harvest complete, the leaves begin to take on a golden hue. Fields of green have been replaced by fields of yellow, surrounded by trees of ruby and skies of sapphire. It's quite the colorful painting we have going on here.


















For all the ups and downs, twists and turns, feeling settled and scattered at the same time, it takes only a few days like today to make me appreciate just how magnificent my current home is.

To accompany the striking visuals is something else wonderful: the smell of fermenting grapes, that sweet, musty smell that words cannot accurately describe. As I drive up and down highway 29 or silverado trail, the two main arteries of Napa County, I experience small waves of that delicious scent.

This past Saturday we set the clocks back, giving us an extra hour of sleep, but putting the sun to rest an hour earlier. At 5:30 p.m. the skies are now dark. I have less time to soak up that precious scenery.

Not to mention the rains have started to come - a day here, two days there. All in all, it means less time outside and more time holding on to the memories of a long-lasting summer and the perfect weather that we had.

It's odd, yet I feel overwhelmingly comforted by the cooler temperatures and darker days. There's something so inviting about strolling around town after the rains have stopped and settling down into a cozy Italian trattoria, as I did at Corso in Berkeley last night.

A hearty pasta and a bottle of the smoothest Aglianico del Vulture certainly hold a particular appeal on a chilly autumn night, a satisfying feeling that simply can't be achieved in quite the same way in the heat of the summer. And one reason I'm thankful for fall in California.