![\"ForgottenGrapes\"](\"http:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/wp-content\/gallery\/Autumn\/ForgottenGrapes.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Wine Tasting<\/p>\n
I think I detect cracked leather.<\/em> in 1959, in a bar in Orlando, Florida,<\/em> like the moon slung away from the earth.<\/em> Probably he tasted laughter.<\/em> and childless. I\u2019d like to taste,<\/em> of where I stood, so I leaned my face in,<\/em> -Kim Addonizio<\/p>\n I came very close to spacing out my duty to post today. I have been taking a Genealogy class and today’s class was about organization. So I decided by files could use a little more organization and went home and went to work. Only when I went down to dinner did I realize I had not done anything about posting an image for today. So, I decided to just start with the last time I was out shooting and work my way back. Fortunately, I didn’t have to go far to find these forgotten grapes from the winery the other day. I just love the colors and I think they play well together. And, while I had rejected this poem for my shot of the vineyard I liked it much better today and it seems to fit the photo better as well. We’ll see how it goes for tomorrow with more rain in the forecast and more genealogy files to organize!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Wine Tasting I think I detect cracked leather. I\u2019m pretty sure I smell the cherries from a Shirley Temple my father bought me in 1959, in a bar in Orlando, Florida, and the chlorine from my mother\u2019s bathing cap. And last winter\u2019s kisses, like salt on black ice, like the moon slung away from the … Continue reading Day 52 – Forgotten Grapes<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[29,8,16,6,11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1006","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-autumn","category-flora","category-macrocloseup","category-nature","category-southern-oregon"],"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1006","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1006"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1006\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1009,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1006\/revisions\/1009"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1006"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1006"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeannehoadley.com\/Photo15\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1006"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nI\u2019m pretty sure I smell the cherries<\/em>
\nfrom a Shirley Temple my father bought me<\/em><\/p>\n
\nand the chlorine from my mother\u2019s bathing cap.<\/em>
\nAnd last winter\u2019s kisses, like salt on black ice,<\/em><\/p>\n
\nWhen Li Po drank wine, the moon dove<\/em>
\nin the river, and he staggered after.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nWhen my friend Susan drinks<\/em>
\nshe cries because she\u2019s Irish<\/em><\/p>\n
\none more time, the rain that arrived<\/em>
\none afternoon and fell just short<\/em><\/p>\n
\nalive in both worlds at once,<\/em>
\nknowing it would end and not caring.<\/em><\/p>\n