In the hills

Saturday morning I drove to Pope Valley to help give food and drink to a bunch of cyclists who had ridden there from Davis and, once suitably refreshed, turned around and rode back again. There are just a couple of ways to get to Pope Valley, none of them direct. I took the one I know best, the one I've ridden many times and the one the Saturday riders would also follow, which takes you past Lake Berryessa and winds through quiet, up-and-down back roads through Chiles Valley, eventually arriving in Pope Valley (pop. hardly anybody).

The best times of year to be in those hills are spring and fall, and Saturday was a picture-postcard example of why. Fruit trees in bloom, both the ones in actual orchards and those stray ones along the roadside, origin unknown but a delightful surprise when they appear. The most eye-popping element, though, is the mustard in the vineyards. It's at its peak now, and seeing its chrome yellow brilliance amidst the dark vines and against the green hills made me feel like I'd stepped into an Impressionist landscape, as here, along Lower Chiles Valley Road:

Fifteen years ago this spring, a friend and I were cycling along this same road and, just for fun, stopped in at RustRidge Winery. We were in the tasting room, chatting with the owner, when, in the next room, I spotted a litter of kittens poking their way here and there. It so happened that I had begun thinking about getting another cat, my sweet Moe having gone on to his cat reward about a year before. "Are you looking for homes for the kittens," I asked? Yes, indeed, they were . . . And so it was that, a few weeks later during Memorial Day weekend, Ernie and his brother, Julio, came to live with me (they having become old enough to leave mom and I having a vehicle more suitable than a bicycle to transport them).

On my way home from Pope Valley, a year now having passed since Ernie (a cat of most blessed memory) joined Moe and his brother, Julio, I stopped again at RustRidge. Was it possible, I wondered, to lose my heart twice in the same place? Though all was much the same as it was years ago, this time there were no kittens, though I did meet several lolling-about yellow labs and one excellent gray tabby called Tex. I also acquired a bottle of excellent Chiles Valley 2004 Zinfandel. Not as cuddly as a kitten but fully capable of offering its own kind of warmth and cheer, especially when enjoyed with friends.