Her Mariposa plum skin blushes with cranberry and cumin as soft white sage lapels caress her delicate neck, curving seductively down clavicle to her sparkling dewdrop nectarine bodysuit. Bing cherries adorn her ears, and chicha morada stains her full thirsting lips, ever yearning for just a hint of rose petal and sweet citrus sinensis, as she tipples back her Metaxa, neat. In due turn, hyacinth flowers fall softly to the ground, displaced from their precarious perch in her paprika pink peppercorn hair, when dainty glass hits bottom. Left to their own devices, pleurotus ostreautous, along with bryophytes and their brethren, mischievously coax salted radish, tomato leaf and cuprum patina from their earthen homes, to cavort and bound across a table laden with lamb moussaka, honey glazed ham, stewed white figs and ceremoniously reduced pomegranate clove sweetmeats, all this to be washed down in turn with plenty a chilled cucumber mountain spring water and steaming cups of Andean Muña mint tea, of course. Now, comfortably nestled on her bed of thuidium amongst lively trillium, admiring hillsides covered in ceanothus, she stretches out her legs to tickle the small acorns of a scrub oak with her dexterous toes, content to doze off, unless frozen watermelon sorbet or warm olallieberry pie deign to make an appearance.

notes by clay selkirk, winemaker & all around cowboy