JPPENS

First off, marketing is all about selling, selling and selling more. The majority of wines sold in this country is purchased by women, keep that in mind when viewing labels. The wine label on the top says " crimson thread red blend". There is no vintage date, no grape name therefore it is telling us that this is a wine that is made from multiple types of red grapes, from multiple years harvest, probably made with second and third pressed grapes versus the label in the bottom picture. That label that tells us that it is mostly a Chardonnay grape, that was harvested in 2018  (vintage date is when the grapes were picked) and is probably made with mostly first press and second press grapes. "Handley" is the name of the Winery, "Alexander Valley" is the name of the vineyard land area where the grapes grew. Alcohol regulations in this country require strict labeling information.  Somewhere on the label, it could be on the side, could be on the back, it will tell

1968 Thanksgiving Eve day and I am in a college dorm room in northern Maine waiting to be stuffed like the turkey waiting for me back home many southern miles away.  I have been sat upon, dragged, stacked, packed and carried, it's what I am. Well worn bell bottom pants rolled tightly around over used tops being smothered by exhausted gym socks, sweat stained shorts, over ripe t-shirts and one or two unmentionables form the foundation of every other thing I will be charged to carry. Going back home for the first time since I left for college fills me with joy. There is nothing like home. Be it a cabin, house, apartment or roof, it is home. The volumes of memories and the musing of it all fills my wrinkles and rounds my middle.  Crammed like Bostonians riding the T at rush hour, insides completely crushed with stuff, the holiday journey begins. Heaped in the back of an old blue VW bug, puzzled among a black duffel, one medium duct taped box, a small shovel, a pair of boots, two bottl

So as previously told, now you know how the white juice gets into tanks and how the red fruit gets into tanks and barrels and the difference in first pressed versus second and third pressed grapes. Red wine is racked into oak barrels, some of these barrels are good old American forest trees and others come from very old French forests.  Some red wines sit in small tanks with oak barrel staves floating around in them. All of these many many decisions are directed by the winemaker. Back when the grapes were harvested and the winemaker was able to see the quantity and quality of the harvest began the part art and part chemistry of creating and birthing a bottle of wine.  Knowing that balance is vital, knowing the character of the grape, knowing the type of yeast that might be used , its time for the winemaker to begin artfully crafting the taste, body and characteristics she wants to have in the finished wine. Wine barrels can only be used three times.  It's much like a tea bag.  The

Colors of Fall Swimming on winds In swirls and circles Diving from their limbs They free fall into tumbles Pretzel moves they do  They tease, they rise  While outstretched arms try One foot, two foot On tippy toes too "Oo's"and "no's" "Just one" I pray "I need no more" My pudgy core Snow colored hair Won't stop my stare I do it with flare A failed attempt Again and again  Won't deter  The search of Just catching one Such simple joy A bit of fun The challenge is there Ahhh,give it a dare.

  There are a few things that can wreck a bottle of wine. Heat, direct sunlight, air and constant vibration are the culprits. Vines grafted, planted, hand pruned so that the sun can beat on the grapes to raise the brix (sugar levels), harvested mostly by hand, racked into tanks, blended, racked (moving fruit juices from one vessel to another) into stainless steel tanks and oak barrels. It takes about three years to grow a usable grape, that is if Mother Nature allows it. So with that said, imagine now all the time, care, $$$$ that it takes to create a good bottle of wine.  Corks are harvested from trees and most of these trees are grown in Portugal. The cork is harvested in layers off the tree. The first layer peeled is considered the best, the second layer not quite as tight and air proof and then the third layer, used mostly in coasters and cork boards etc. A wine cork is generally made from the first and second layer BUT in the past few decades a chemical compound called trichloroan

On Monday morning the usual coastal fog had lifted. I could sense the anticipation of lobster boats maneuvering to their bright color coded buoys hoping for their traps to be filled with treasured crustaceans.  The bay looked like a busy parking lot.  Watching men and women pull lines, ropes and traps using their tried and true rituals made of honed skills and sea blessings I see, through binoculars, their weathered faces. Captains with long flowing chin hairs, others with short stubby whiskers but the view of a couple of rugged Maine women draws a "You go girl" from my heart. Rolled up sleeves on well worn faded flannel, patched rubber boots, yellow rubber gloves and the tattered  visors on the baseball cap tell the tales of salt water life.  In the distance I see a large flat barge heading out to sea coming from Downeast as it heads to the open ocean with empty decks and a different destination.  An amazing way to start another gifted beautiful summer day on the bay with my

Thinking about how to even begin to organize the words in your head into something oftentimes is what stops any writing from happening so this is what I do... I literally scribble words down on either a legal pad or a sketch pad with my favorite green Flair. This is what I call "dumping my brain" and it can take minutes or sometimes a couple hours of real concentrated dumping and then I get up and walk away from my cozy work space that literally sits inside our den closet. It might be the next day or a few days later until I return to look at my throw down of words, could even be longer. I just try to give my mind a chance to see the words in a new light.   I have found that once I begin this process of thinking about words, language and stringing them together so that they carry a mental picture to a person who reads it, well there is no turning the process off for me, so I commit.  I choose to work mostly during the hours after noon time. It can be for an hour or it can run

The silver glittering shine of a fish protruding and waving in the wind as the Catcher dodges and dives his way to the seaweed covered rock below my perch is magical. He is followed by two screeching and bellowing noisy mates with their wings spread, bobbing and weaving like boxers in the ring. The cacophony of sounds reminds me of middle schoolers at lunchtime as more winged specimens gather. No bell has rung to assemble the flock but the learned pattern of behaviors and hunger guides them in. They dip, they pivot, they glide to the seaweed covered earth and rock. They wait and patiently edge closer to the Catcher. The flock of gulls has quickly grown into a mob. They loop around and peer while the Catcher pecks nervously at the fish on its table. For a few brief moments there is no movement, not a sound can be heard except for the slowly lapping waves rolling off shore. As if on cue, a single boisterous bird charges to the rock where the Catcher has placed its meal on the seaweed t

 The Front Porch... This is the view at low tide, no further than a softball throw from 3rd base to 1st from the porch. Belfast Harbor sits due south just a home run away. To our north, not more than a few par 5's is the Acadia ocean playground area. Directly east is the monument and then the beautiful Isleboro island that holds the homes of a few treasured friends. Little did I know just how much I would grow to love this front porch.  Willfully deciding to put my electronics down, away, unplugged for this month of seaside living was beyond a rewarding choice. Head looking forward, up and out, not down at an electronic screen brought views of playful seals rolling and diving for mackerel. Birds of many names, gulls, terns and albatross all paint the sky from flowing breezes that carry them up from the breaking waves just trying to catch their dinner. White sided dolphins racing each other to unknown spots only to pivot and rise, showing us the whites of their sleek glimmering side

  Now we all know that there are wine snobs in the world, the folks who poo-poo a sweet wine, drinking wine from a screw top, you know the ones. That folks is NOT me. Find the grape you like, have it in the vessel you like at the temperature you like and just enjoy.  White grapes (actually the grapes are shades of green) like Chardonnay, Pinot Grigio, Sauvignon Blanc or red grapes like Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Merlot, Zinfandel just to name a few is a good place to start your search.  Half the fun is finding the grape you like and sipping it your way. If you tend to like dry wine (sugar fermented away) rather than a sweeter wine ( more sugar left in it) so be it. Red instead of white, yes even with a nice rib eye steak is just fine in my book. Wine tasting and pairing with foods is all about PH and acidity but it really is all about personal preference.  Like ice in it, do it. Heck, you can even put a straw in it with an umbrella if you so choose. So find the one you like and en

Writing and sketching are two things that I have always enjoyed since childhood and hoped there would be a time and space at some point when I could dabble at both. The time in my retirement had arrived, no need to wait any longer. Short little novellas of fiction and non-fiction based on life experiences and thoughts is how I chose to proceed. I learned early on that writing about what I knew was the way to go and even that takes time and research to get it from the brain to paper. I hope you will see in my blogs that I attempt to have my readers see, smell, feel the pulse and taste my stories. Fiction is fun because there are no limits to what one can create while non-fiction is based on facts and real events. Penning in both I found to be a very different process.  Creating Locker Tales was fun and easy while writing Loud Secrets was painful and arduous. When I was doing research on writing a memoir I found a quote that pretty much says it all, it went something like this... before

 I awoke to bright sunshine shimmering off the calm waters of Penobscot Bay. The clock read 4:58 a.m. I had forgotten how dawn comes early on the coast of Maine in July. Sliding quietly out of bed into well worn shorts and t-shirt, flip flops waiting for my feet to navigate the aged wood floors of what would be our seaside home for the next month. The squeaks would become familiar and welcomed. I stepped out onto the front porch that overlooked Belfast Bay, straight ahead, no more than three football fields, stood the ever present monument that lets all seafarers know that the harbor is near.  The salty air kissed my skin and the pungent smells of seaweed at low tide filled my memories.  The peace and joy of being where you really want to be hugged my heart... More coming soon...

So you know… I am not an expert in wine, not a sommelier.  I believe that wine is made to play with and enjoy even in a plastic cup! I am a fortunate person who was able to spend lots of years working and learning about the art and chemistry of making a good wine at this country's most visited winery in Asheville NC. I am an oenophile (a person who loves wine and everything about it). Whenever I speak about wine I use “about” or “approximately” because wine making and growing is an ever changing energy. So you really know… true wine, real WINE is only made from grapes that grow on a vine. It is against the governing laws of our Domestic (USA) region to add any flavors like peach, strawberry, apple etc. into the blend. ONLY the grapes, a type of yeast ( and there are hundreds) and sugar (yeast eating sugar creates alcohol) can be added.  Marketing is permitted, in this country, to call a product, be it Peach or Blueberry etc. a wine if those fruits are added to it but in reality it

     I might look like just any old well worn cap, truth is, I am pretty worn out but let me tell you about my 14 hours at sea.      About 7 pm I was resting on my JP’s head while she was enjoying the pounding surf at Holden Beach. The tide was going out and the riptides were strong. Out of nowhere a rogue wave washed over her and I found myself tumbling into the foamy white sea.  I was soaked with salt, sweat and sand and I could hear my best friend in the whole world calling for me but I was too saturated and cold to be able to pop up and show myself.  I tried to float but to no avail.  I tried to pop up again but the surf was too strong.  It seemed like forever when I finally realized that I just needed to go with the flow, relax and not fight the powerful currents that were taking me away from the person who I knew as “home”. I was very sad, and said my goodbyes and thank yous.  I rolled over into my visor and drifted out on the withdrawing tide.  The brightness above the waves slo

  Thanks for checking in to my blog.  Since my book LOUD SECRETS a memoir  has been released I have had many folks contact me. Some generously shared their personal stories of triumph and life on the struggle bus. Some have asked me varying questions about wine and all the hoopla that goes with choosing one over another down to nitrites and what temperature should it be served at or how do I store an open bottle. Some have asked me about writing and how I got to where I now am. Thus is the birth of JPPENS. Stay tuned as I blog on my writings, life and of course wine.  

  “We the people…” When spitballs and pea shooters in schools are replaced with automatic weapons, where are “We the people…”? When untruths and fear are used as tools to sway and incite the blind unquestioning believers, where are “We the people…”? When $$$$ and power are THE REASON, above all else, where are “We the people…”? When a Country’s moral compass becomes magnetized so far away from true north, where are “We the people…”? When the answer to mass killings is to give more guns to the masses, where are “We the people…”? When the climate changed from what it was to real weather no one expected, where are “We the people…”? When closed doors and redacted words are left covered to hide the sins,  where are “We the people…”? When social injustice because of race, color, gender, orientation or land of birth suffer for the good of one race, one color, one gender, one orientation or one land of birth, where are “We the people…”? When our elections are raped and voters discounted, where