Διηγούμαι την ιστορία του κρασιού και μίας καινούριας μυστηριώδους γης...

I sing the song of wine and a new mysterious land

After all those weeks on the boat, I am finally starting to feel better and my legs are not as wobbly, which is a good thing, since we have started our trek across this grand new world. We’ve been walking for a few days through woods and over hills. There are, I counted, five lakes that dot this beautiful landscape. It is early spring and the new growth is amazing and the creeks and the waterfalls that run with the snow melt are crisp and clean. We have been through many small villages and met some very nice people.  Xena bartered with some of them for items that are unique to this area in a village called Dunkirk and I love the cornmeal that she received.

We came over a hill and saw a lake, larger than the other five, and so we decided to camp along its shores. As we were sitting by the fire relaxing and letting the fish digest, the fog rolled in off the lake and Xena said that it looked really ‘eerie’. Just then we heard someone approaching. A man, tall and in dark clothes stepped out of the tree-line. Xena, always at the ready, asked if he needed anything. He said that he meant us no harm and wondered if he could share our fire. He told us his name was Deacon Elizah Fay and that he was heading to his home, half a day travel from there.  He told us all about how he was trying to find a new plant to grow, something that would help their economy and keep his family and congregation thriving. Xena and I looked at each other knowing just what that could be.

When we were on the boat I told stories to the young ones so they wouldn’t be so scared and one of the fathers insisted that I took three vines from him. He was from Champagne, Gaul, and was headed to a place called California to start his own vineyards, but he insisted that I took those and planted them in a rich fertile soil, and we would have wine like none had tasted before. Now Xena and I were not going to stay in one place long enough, so we insisted that Deacon helped us out by taking them off our hands. He agreed on the condition that, should we ever return, we would share a bottle of his finest with him. Now, that is a condition I can live with.