Christmas 2015

What makes it Christmas, in what is otherwise so un-Christmassy Honolulu, is getting brief Christmas Eve phonecalls from John Marshall, Marcus and Phil, the last of whom sent me via e-mail the picture of an "indescribably delicious" bottle of Moselle which graces our blog today.

What colour are they now, thy quiet waters?
The evening star has brought the evening light,
And filled the river with the green hillside;
The hill-tops waver in the rippling water,
Trembles the absent vine and swells the grape
In thy clear crystal.

Phil, so he says, is about to set out on a gastronomic tour of northern France, whereof he promises to send me menus, wine-lists and descriptions.  Whereas Johnny Marshal, so he says, is about to become one of the official judges in an Eastern Washington Medical Marijuana's growers' contest--required, as such, to sample about half of some 120 entries.  Further news, says John, may be read in High Times magazine.  "Remember to pace yourself," said I to the already exultant John Marshall.  And I said pretty much the same to Phil.