Oil on museum quality, archival ampersand gessobord™ panel - 6” x 8”
Summer is finally here and once again it is socially permissible to drink rosé. Like not wearing white shoes after labor day, etiquette dictates that we wait until warm weather to enjoy rosé. I’m not talking about the stuff we that we cut our teeth on back in college either - Mateus, Lancer's, et al., that cloyingly sweet pink wine that we all thought was the perfect drink, whatever the season. Come on, admit it, you had a drip candle in a Mateus bottle on your wire spool table in your first apartment. I can almost hear “Stairway to Heaven” playing on the phonograph and smell the mixed aroma of incense and pot. Times have changed, we’ve matured (well, some of us) and thank God, so have our palates (and our palettes). I suppose white zin has its place, but give me a lovely French rosé on a hot summer evening and I am a happy guy. Now where did I put my white bucks?
“And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll
Woe oh oh oh oh oh
And she's buying a stairway to heaven”
