Once upon a time, a long, long, long time ago, we hated wine. We also hated nature. And now look at us.
Loving obsessing over the former, liking tolerating the latter — meaning, we guzzled wine like Bacchus on the hillside of Scribe Winery, looking out over the vineyard all like, “Okay, fine. We guess it’s, like, beautiful or something. Wait… oh no, our glasses are EMPTY!!” (insert scream emoji, scream emoji, scream emoji).
We subscribed to Scribe about a year ago, on the mere remark, suggested by a friend of ours, “Ohhhhhh, it’s, like, such a cool winery.” And we were all like, “It’s cool?! COOL?!? It’s a COOL winery?! We’re sold.” We just wanted to be, you know, cool for the summer (that’s a Demi Lovato reference, a.k.a. we’re clearly writing this in our underwear right now, undie-dancing to Demi’s new song… and we just admitted that). But, back to our main point. It was the first winery (and only, thus far) we’d ever subscribed to.
More importantly, though, you should have seen our faces, the first time we drove up to the winery. We were like this. And this. Telling ourselves, “like, we’re real adults now,” meanwhile running up the hill, from our car, towards the sweet, unknowing sommeliers at the winery all like this. And this.
Here’s our quick little photo diary of our trip up to Scribe Winery in Sonoma this past weekend 🙂