A month ago, Deana mentioned that she was interested in attending the Manitou Wine Festival and wondered if I would like to go with her. There are a couple of reasons I agreed. The first is that I am very uneducated about wine and would like to learn, although I have never been much of a wine drinker. Since losing most of my sense of smell, I'd also wondered if I could even tell much of a difference between the differing notes of wines. Add to this that last summer when Deana tried to attend, the person she intended to wander the grounds with arrived two hours ahead of her and was, shall we say, indisposed and in need of a ride home by the time she arrived, which pretty much killed the afternoon.
So Friday night after work, I headed to Manitou, knowing it would be a much more leisurely time if I wasn't attempting to get there mid-morning Saturday when parking would be non-existent. D had some wonderful turkey burgers with feta and basil to cook on the grill over a mixed green salad that I raved about, (and promptly recreated Sunday night on our grill -- blog with recipe to follow.)
After dinner, we wandered downtown to buy some Manitou House Blend for the morning and stop in to catch a few numbers from Bill and Nancy, aka The Story's, and then back to Deana's for the movie of the night, The Truman Show.
Cue the sun.
Saturday morning we were back downtown for breakfast at Coquette's. Behold, the Denver Omelette.
Behold, Boo Didley, who also approves of the Denver Omelette. It's 65° at 10:00 with almost no clouds in the sky.
Roses in bloom along Manitou Ave.
Boo decides he should wait behind while I try to get a picture of all the birds up in the nests under the eaves.
(insert lovely rest of the morning at Crystal Valley post)
Our scrambling over hills and gravestones was in the lovely warm sunshine. We'd shed jackets and shirts down to just bare arms and found shady spots where the temperature felt 20° degrees cooler to enjoy. It was about noon time when we made our way back to Deana's to leave the car and walk back through town to Memorial Park for the Wine Festival. While we were at her place, she returned a few work phone calls and changed. While she was doing that, I was watching the skies quite intently. In the space of twenty minutes the storm clouds were gathering fast, very dark, and heading over the mountains toward us. The denim shirt I'd shed from my sundress ensemble and thought I would leave behind, I decided to put back on. I grabbed the little purse-sized umbrella from the car and stashed it in my bag as we headed out. D searched her car and couldn't find her umbrella. In hindsight, had I been thinking, I did have another umbrella in my car that I should have given her. My tiny, green, personal one was not going to be enough charm to keep the storm at bay. Even if we'd both been lugging giant, golf umbrellas, I don't think it would have been enough.
As we approached the park, the playground's name struck me as oddly prophetic:
So we get in, get IDs checked, wristbands on, and our bag with wine glass and four compartments to carry wine bottles home in and begin to check out the vendors, all Colorado wineries with a few food vendors mixed in. It's about 12:45 and the skies are turning more and more gray by the second. I said to D, "I'm not really sure the universe wants you to attend this thing." We hit up Avanti out of Littleton and then D'Vine Wine in the next tent which makes its own wines locally in Manitou. Surprisingly, I didn't have any trouble picking up on most of the flavor notes. The D'Vine Peach Chardonnay edged out pretty much every other wine I tasted, although the mead at the Redstone Meadery was a very close second. It was around the time we were wandering away from Redstone's tent that the first very fat drops of rain began pelting down and I pulled out the umbrella. Ten minutes after that and I was waiting for hail to start tearing holes into the fabric and we took shelter under the "large" tent that seemed quite smaller when half the festival was sheltering in place with us. While we waited for the worst to blow over . . . we snacked on the toasted cinnamon and sugar almonds that were so warm and yummy as we shivered in our soaked clothes.
And we considered that perhaps galoshes would have been a better choice of footwear.
And then we just started playing with the phone pictures.
The rain finally let up, but by then, the thrill was gone. We were cold and squishy and muddy. Deana stopped back by Avanti for a purchase,
while I decided I'd need to visit the portapotties before we left. Guess which "booth" had the longest line several hours into a wine tasting? There was quite a sense of togetherness when it was announced all the toilets were now out of paper, save the lone roll, which was generously passed back through the line, on the honor system to take only what you needed.
After that adventure, closing in 3:00 without lunch, we decided a very warm lunch was in order. You can tell by the lake in the parking lot it had really come down in a very short amount of time. Water evaporates so quickly up here, standing water in a parking space is very much an anomaly.
Alas, the only picture I thought to take at The Loop was of our empty drinks and chips in front of the fireplace we were so terribly grateful for.
Back up the hill, bags in tow, including...
the order of sopapillas to go that we split in front of D's fireplace with a fresh pot of House blend on the side, after a hot shower and dry clothes were procured. What a great way to end the trip.
0 comments:
Post a Comment