Muse

One of my favorite Ohio vineyards is for sale.

I’ve been trying to dismiss the dream as unreasonable since I heard about it this weekend. Rationalization about the loan, my ability to garden, my love of the city, work, kids, dogs, anything to talk myself out of it. Tonight, I find myself alone with the vineyard listing with a full hour of quiet stretching in front of me.

Normally, that’s heaven. Except, that vineyard is calling me…”Oh, Monica’s gut…come, let’s rule the vineyard together…” like a siren beckoning.

No, I should be productive and DO something. I tune into my overdue History lesson. I’m a few weeks behind, but intuition, sick children and work responsibilities have kept me from catching up. Until tonight. I need a distraction from all this thinking about owning a vineyard on the Ohio River.

It’s the 1900s and my History teacher is comparing modernity with…

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