Like most people, my wife and I hadn’t been out of the house for more than a few hours since last winter. We made only one trip during that time: to the hospital, for the birth of our son. But with her leave from work coming to an end, we were gifted the opportunity to leave the little man with Grandma and Grandpa and hit the road.
We decided to drive up to wine country, to stay in a small hotel, and to set out in search of some normalcy. The paranoid person in me found a great deal of comfort in what greeted us there, and yet it was quietly devastating all the same. Wherever we went, there was emptiness. We saw almost no other people, apart from those who worked the land or ran the tasting rooms. One person assured us this was “off season,” while also sharing that, at their peak, they could host 300 people a day. We were the only visitors they expected to see that day.
Later, our host pointed out the burns on the hillside from the previous years’ fires. I was moved to tears when she told us of a man who, upon realizing his home and life’s work were lost, went down the road to help save a neighbor’s business. Amidst all the despair, however, there was a glimmer of optimism in her tone. People who work in food and agriculture are weeks away from being eligible for vaccines—a potential lifeline, as another person told us. In a few months, the near-deserted vineyards and wineries might be busy with activity once more.
Words + Photoby Tait Forman