Epiphany: Dry Finish

Call it a midlife crisis before mid-life, but at the age of 29 I was four years out of graduate school and faced with the prospect of working 30 years at a job that I loathed. Don’t get me wrong, geology is a noble profession; studying rocks and learning about things that lived 300 million years ago is great. The only problem with studying rocks in central Ohio is that they’re buried under 50 feet of Canadian-borne dirt. Most geology around these parts concerns dirt, and dirt didn’t really excite me. I found my calling on a family trip to Lake Michigan’s eastern shore. My wife Cherie, parents, sister, and brother-in-law decided on a trip to a local winery. None of us were particularly big wine drinkers — I could count on one hand the number of bottles of wine I had consumed in my life. Needless to say a winery visit seemed a little foreign to me but I indulged those who wanted to go by taking a pre-harvest hayride around the vineyard. During the tour, the owner, Doug,