Just on the other end of our suspension bridge crouches a distillery. You smell it before you see it, a smell of fermentation something like the smell of silage on a Vermont dairy farm. I have no idea what goes on inside the squalid building, but from time to time, the yard outside fills with what's left after the grapes are crushed for wine. And this, I'm told, is made into eau de vie, life water, brandy. Robert told me that the vintners are required to send the lees of the wine to a distillery so that the government can confirm that they are not making moonshine themselves. I love the dark violette color of this stuff when the sun hits it late in the afternoon, even when there's only a little still left against the walls.
.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298992159503430930">
