trespassing and alcohol making: another warm and fuzzy family memory


 Follow Rt. 414 Northbound and you will find yourself smack in the middle of the Finger Lakes.  Literally, world-re known for its wines and breath taking scenery.  October is the height of its natural splendor.


Take a golden bend in the road and you end up at Fulkerson Winery.  They are just handful of wineries that offer their crafted grape juice to sell to novice wine makers.  I am married to such a man.  That makes me happy.




While Daddy was "talking juice" with the owners, me and the girls got out of an increasingly warming and loud van, to explore.  Dressed to the tee in Church attire (we came straight from church; its close by).  An untypical site, as we clicked, clicked by in heels and tights, hand-in-hand, pass a throng of slightly tipsy bus touring wine samplers. (Remember this is the height of the tourist season, and the weather was gorgeous which always makes for lots of people).  We dodged out of the crowded parking lot, and headed behind their out buildings.  A beautiful view opened up before us.  A bright blue sky vast and vividly contrasting with orange maples, a golden vineyard of spent grape vines, and one very enticing hay bale. Cannot say for certain, but am fairly confident that we were not supposed to be up there. 



The Journey of the Humble Grape:



to juice




to bucket.


It was not all reprobate behaviour though:

We drove to the bottom of Seneca Lake and had a picnic at the nearly deserted state park.

Well almost deserted:

The seagulls made their noisy presence known, especially when we brought the food out. (my 9 year old daughter took this picture:  pretty nice shot eh?)

Here she is feeding the little flying rats.

I "ghetto-ed up" my new heels and tights taking pictures in fields, and climbing lake rocks, something good.  Oh well, I have four children I am not supposed look "put together" or  "sophisticated" I guess.

Here's to October.



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