The plan was admirably ambitious: a driver, several wineries, a thoughtfully arranged route, perhaps a late lunch somewhere with a view.
Then there was Elusa. The tasting became a conversation; the conversation became another bottle; and before long my mother and I had resolved several of life’s smaller mysteries, formed firm opinions about the virtues of remaining exactly where we were, and acquired a case of wine.
The other wineries remained unvisited. They will understand.