** this is a repost from a no longer existent blog called The Wayward Wine Pixie that I wrote back in 2015 **

My work often brings me into our winery’s storage room where I navigate dozens of pallets of wine to pack up custom orders for clients. Tucked away into the corner of this more-or-less tidy space is a haphazard mishmash of boxes: some cardboard, some wooden, but all filled with mystery. This is my employer’s personal wine collection, amassed mostly before the winery building was purchased in 2008 and stashed quickly as harvest approached.

Like the proverbial Eve and her apple, I yearn to open these boxes and discover what rests so peacefully inside. But I’m a good girl, and I don’t touch things that don’t belong to me without express permission. It’s made for a distracting work environment, to the point now that I casually mention this enigma to whomever happens to be in the room with me. And as luck would have it, one day that person on the receiving end of my comments was none other than one of the owners.