There are moments in life when everything feels like it’s moving too fast: emails, deadlines, endless notifications. I didn’t realize how much I needed to pause until I found myself in the middle of a vineyard, glass in hand. That tasting experience didn’t just introduce me to wine; it reminded me what it feels like to slow down and actually be present.
Life on Fast-Forward
Unless you are a big slow-poke like me, your life is likely to be running at warp speed. Deadlines. Notifications. Back-to-back plans. Never at rest, ever on the move. At one point, I noticed that I was not feeling much of anything. Everything had become a blur. Such a numbness is not new to brewers; whether it is handling inexhaustible batches, striving to be consistent with fermentation, or programming a recipe that requires patience, they can easily lose track of the craft itself.
It is something to remind us that brewing is not just about output, like life itself. It is taking time to savor what you have made, the finer details of malt, hop, and yeast, and admire the way they come together. I didn’t set out to fix that. I was not seeking some great discovery. I needed a slower weekend off.
A Change in Scenery
The drive alone felt different. Trees started replacing buildings. My phone signal got patchier. The sky seemed to stretch a little wider. And when I pulled into Dry Creek Vineyard, something in me exhaled for the first time in weeks. It wasn’t fancy. It was beautiful in a quiet, unfussy way, rows of vines stretching out under the sun, the kind of place where time moves differently. Slower. Softer.
First Pour, First Pause
The tasting began like most do: a welcome, a smile, a glass of something crisp. But the vibe? Way more relaxed than I expected. No pressure to pretend I knew what I was doing. No judgment. Just people sharing wine and stories. I took a sip and let it sit for a moment. I wasn’t thinking about flavor notes or aroma wheels. I was just… there. And honestly? That felt rare. That felt good.
When It Hit Me
Somewhere between the second and third pour, it happened. The sun shifted through the trees, someone laughed nearby, and I realized I hadn’t looked at my phone in over an hour. I wasn’t thinking about what came next or what I was missing. I was just sitting, sipping, and feeling, actually feeling. It wasn’t the wine (okay, it might have been a little bit of the wine). It was the permission to be fully present. No multitasking. No rushing. Just one sense at a time, waking back up.
It reminded me that wine tasting isn’t just about wine. It’s about the whole experience, the place, the people, the moment you’re in. Something is grounding about holding a glass in your hand and realizing you don’t have to be anywhere else. For many brewers, that glass carries more than flavor; it holds the memory of grain selected, water treated, yeast cared for, and hours spent perfecting a recipe. It’s proof that the work of brewing connects us back to simple presence, whether at a crowded taproom, a quiet homebrew setup, or a shared table halfway across the world.
More Than Just Wine
Dry Creek Vineyard was not about the fancy or impressing anybody. It was about slowing down to the point where you can feel the sunshine on your skin, how much laughter sounds when it is natural, how a drink that is good can bring you down. And be honest, for a moment, I am not the type of person who tends to get emotional about a glass of Merlot. Something deeper was afoot, however. The simplicity of the moment was. The lack of pressure. The invitation to just exist.
We do not tend to grant ourselves that type of permission. We spend our weekends shopping, doing things to do, and socializing. Even relaxing becomes an exercise. Here, there was no one to do, only to be, in this place filled with vines and low talk. That alone made it special.
A Place That Invites You In
There was something about Dry Creek that felt different. The people were warm, not pretentious. The setting felt personal, not polished. The entire experience said, “You don’t have to know anything. Just enjoy.”
And that kind of welcome? It changes everything. It made me realize how much we brace ourselves in daily life. We perform. We posture. Even in our downtime, we’re checking boxes. But here? There were no boxes. Just open air, good wine, and room to breathe. You know those rare moments when you feel like you’ve stepped out of your own life, even just for a few hours? This was one of those moments. It felt like finding a new version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while. Not a different person, just a less distracted one.
What I Took With Me
I did not go off with fewer than a few bottles. I went away with a reminder that quietness does not necessarily need to be obtained. It can just be. You do not have to go through a life crisis to stop. You do not have to be a sommelier in order to enjoy wine. And you need never be anybody but yourself to go and sit in a vineyard and have the world take its time for a change.
The wine sensory evaluation did not leave me with just a fun weekend. It gave me presence. It gave me a connection. And it made me think of how the fact that we are alive is not a matter of counting days. It’s about feeling them. And frankly, we all need a dose of that. Hopefully, next time you find yourself scrolling aimlessly, or even wondering how the past 3 months have passed, you could ask yourself: When was the last thing I felt? Perhaps it is high time to drive to the car and have that drive, and have the world be silent for a moment. Perhaps it is time to fill yourself a glass and just be.
Want to Feel It Too?
When you need that sort of reset, the sort that involves no plane ticket or scheme, then consider this your invitation. Go taste something. Sit in the sun. Talk to strangers. Go to a place that wants you to be all that you are. That was done to me at Dry Creek Vineyard. What might it do to you? Who knows?
Only one suggestion: put your phone aside. You will be amazed by what occurs when you allow yourself the room to experience again. And when you do? Don’t rush it. Let the day unfold. And pour on like a fresh pour of the tap. Make it make you feel like being human; one sincere moment at a time, over a beer made the same way, with the same purpose, balancing craft, care, and connection with every swallow.
