The Art of Small Gestures

Let me tell you a story.

It’s not my own story, but the story of an anonymous, flanneled couple at a Maine vineyard. They made my evening, about a month ago. (I swear I'll write about the military sometime, as that seems to be what the people back home are most curious about...perhaps I'll soon tell you about my recent "OC Spray" day. Ugh.) Anyway- 

Cellardoor Winery

I’d just finished a trail run up Derry Mountain in Lincolnville, Maine. My running partners couldn’t make it this evening, so I was running solo. It was a good night for meandering, with a bit of time to kill and no imposing plans. So, instead of taking the main drag through Camden, I decided to take one of the more scenic backroads back home to Thomaston.

On my way back, I saw a beautiful, well-lit, rustic-looking building on the roadside. It was the Cellardoor Winery, whose wines I’d seen many places around town, but never tried. I also saw the sign that said “Wine tasting tonight-! 3-6PM.” I drove a half mile or so past...then three-point turned it in one of the dirt driveways. I went into the winery wearing my shorty-short running shorts, high socks with blue anchors, and a large fleece jacket.  I got some funny looks, but far fewer than I’d receive in the southernly-charmed Virginia. 

These spontaneous side adventurers tend to be my favorite. In Cellardoor, which I highly recommend, classy collides with casual in the most comfortable kind of way. It sits atop the vineyard on a hill, and on a night like I was there, a stunning sunset behind the mountains sets the backdrop.

So, I was sitting there tasting my wine. Everyone around me seemed to be in good spirits. It was a pretty mellow atmosphere, with gentle smiles and nice pleasantries going around. I exchanged a few comments with the sweet, older couple beside me. “Oh yeah, I’m not a fan of anything too sweet either...no, I’m actually not freezing...yes, I’m in the military...the Coast Guard Station over in Rockland...Oh yes, this is my first time here too...Oh cool, do you miss living out here?” Nothing crazy, we were just enjoying ourselves and our escape from business-as-usual. I said goodbye to them and continued onto my next half-glass of wine. 

As I was drinking, the wine-pourer came back to me to ask me how I had liked my previous glass of red wine. I re-assured her, for a second time, that I really did like it a lot. “Urbane” it was called, named after a local artist. A few moments later, she came back again, this time outside of the bar, with her crisp black skirt swishing and a sneaky smile on her face. She carried a slender brown bag with a ribbon on the handle. “This is for you,” she said, “from that couple you were sitting next to.”

My jaw dropped. I hadn’t expected this at all, and I was flabbergasted by the sweet surprise. My wine-pourer was so happy to have been part of this little mission. I looked over to the cashier where the couple was checking out. The older women, in her red flannel shirt, came by. We both kind of were blushing through our shyness, but she said she just wanted to wish me “happy holidays and enjoy my time in Maine, along with a bottle of wine.” I stuttered through my thank yous, goodbyes, and a “this is awesome!” 

I now wish I’d gotten their names so I could thank them with a card, but I didn’t think of it at the time. All the cashier knew was that they were from Owl's Head. I’ll just have to pay it forward someday, I suppose. 

It was the best bottle of wine I’ve ever owned. Not because of the taste, per say, but because I  thought about that gesture through every glass I poured. Hurray for the holidays and wonderful Mainers.

The End.

Cellardoor Sunset (iPhone photo, not great)

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First Year, UVa 

   

PS: 

 Postcards are my favorite "small gesture," as many of you know. I swear a postcard will mean far more to your friend than you silently perusing his/her Facebook page tonight.