Maryland my Maryland

I lived in my home state of Maryland for close to 40 years, until I took a job in New England and moved away. For the last year and a half, I have been physically located in New England, though I find that a significant part of my heart remains in Maryland. This surprises me, because I had been ready to try living somewhere new and was bored with Maryland. Of course, it is the leaving that helps you realize what it is you left behind.

Luckily, going home is an easy hour-long plane ride, and last Fall I had a day with a friend with nothing on the agenda. We decided to wander.

We headed east to look into some thrift shops for doors that my friend wanted for her home. We didn't find the doors, but we did find the aptly named world's ugliest ashtray, in a building with the most crooked stairs I have ever seen.

We also decided to stop along the way to visit the Crow Winery which is, believe it or not, hidden away behind these beautiful fields of corn. The cornfields, which were so boring to drive through as a kid, are now a sign that I am in familiar territory. Even better when a family run cattle ranch and vineyard is tucked away behind them.

When we got out of the car at the vineyard, the proprietor approached us. "Oh, are you here to volunteer?" Um, what's this, now?

It turns out we stumbled upon harvest season, and they needed people to help sort the grapes. They offered us a freebie - wine, or beef - in exchange. In all honesty, we would have volunteered completely for free. The next thing we knew, we were standing at a conveyer belt, sleeves rolled up, with other wine-loving individuals to the right and left of us, sorting through the grapes as they came down the conveyor belt, pulling out any stems or twigs or (live) bugs that we could find. We felt not unlike Lucy Ricardo.

Bonus: when we returned to the winery a few months later for an event, they remembered us and gave us free t-shirts as a thank you for volunteering!

I now know just how many bugs and twigs can make it through into the vat of grape juice as it ferments into wine. I know this, and I am okay with it. I still drink the wine.

That night, we went on a scheduled ghost tour of Easton, MD. My friend and I love ghost tours. Do we believe in the ghosts? Maybe. But believing or not, the tours are always a great way to get a unique view of a local place, it's characters, and its charm. Plus, what is spookier than wandering around a graveyard at night?

I had no idea that Maryland could be this interesting.

That's me, sorting grapes.