Chateau Ste Michelle, 2009 Riesling, Columbia Valley

He sat watching the myriad autumn tones that abundantly decorated the tall birch trees at the edge of his parents' backyard, mesmerized by the sunlight that pierced the foliage in millions of tiny points through to crisp blue sky. The brisk breezes that whisked through repeatedly disturbed the foliage, creating a swaying shimmer of gold, orange, yellow, red, tangerine, lemon, amber that adorned the forest behind the house. He sighed deeply and contently and smiled broadly as his nose detected the crisp apples his mother was slicing for pies.

The doorbell rang and his grin widened. He stood up and strode towards the front door, dipping his pinky in the bowl of honey nestled among the assorted pie-making accouterments scattered across the kitchen counter. His eyes twinkled as he gingerly opened the door to see her flowing, golden blonde curls being blustered back and forth by the wind.

"It's about time," he said with a sarcastic smile. "Must have taken you forever to walk over here from next door. We only have a couple of hours until dinner!"

"Easy does it, killer," she laughed, shoving him. "I've been putting in required family face time. First time I've been home since school started, remember?"
"Fair enough," he conceded, pulling her into a cozy hug. "Let's go! Can't break tradition." He grabbed his coat, called out a goodbye to his parents, and bounded out the door with her in tow.

They chattered excitedly together as they walked toward the forest that had only moments ago been the glittering, two-dimensional canvas behind panes of glass. But as soon as they reached the tree-line, they both fell silent, as they always did at this point of the journey. They strode though the tall, dry grasses, glancing at one another every now and again with a playful smile, soundless but for the swoosh and crunch of the dead leaves at their feet.

They reached the brook and both stopped at its edge. Its tranquil babble trickled into their ears as its water ran over cold, smooth stones. Their hands drifted together instinctively but slowly and very small smiles crept over each one's lips. Together, they stepped across the brook at the same time, then dropped one another's hands and continued among the trees.

The path through the trees narrowed and caused him to walk behind her, and as the afternoon sun silhouetted her figure, he smiled at her very bright, grapefruit-colored leggings. But amusement turned to growing surprise as his eyes made their way up her legs. He stopped walking and cocked his head.

"What's up?" she asked, turning around. "Why'd you stop?"

"Oh-" he responded, stopping himself. He thought for a moment. "I'm..." he paused again.

"Dude," she scoffed jokingly. "Seriously? Weirdo. Let's keep going." She rolled her eyes, giggling, then continued ahead of him. He furrowed his brow momentarily, then shook his head and trudged on through the leaves behind her.

The path narrowed even further, then began to widen again, and within a few minutes they arrived at a clearing that opened up to the crisp, blazing blue, Washington sky. Yellow flowers peppered the grass and clover and the scent of honeysuckle crisscrossed in the breezes that swept around here and there. She reached the center of the clearing and found a spot to lie down, sprawling herself contentedly on the soft ground. He plopped himself beside her and looked at her thoughtfully.

"Eleven years coming here," he mused aloud.

"It's my favorite part of Thanksgiving," she smiled in reply. They lay there for several minutes longer, staring up at the perfectly puffy white clouds, when, suddenly, she sat up.

"What's up?" he asked, leaning up on his elbows.

"Guess what I grabbed from my folks' house before I left?" she asked mischievously. He looked at her quizzically as she reached into her yellow zip hoodie and pulled out a bottle of Riesling. "It's still cold!" she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling, cheeks rosy. "Cheers!" She put the bottle to her lips and tipped it back. He shook his head affectionately and took the bottle as she passed it to him. He took a swig, his hand moving to catch a trickle of wine at the corner of his mouth that he hoped she hadn't noticed. Her unrestrained laughter informed him that she had.

As they passed the bottle back and forth a few more times, they reminisced and joked, completely as ease. He realized she was the coolest girl he knew, but the sweetest too. And not in a sugary way; she was just so easy to take in, so nice to be around, refreshing and familiar all at the same time. She was confident enough to show some tartness when she needed to; but at the end of the day she was nothing but pleasant and likable and just, yum, nice.

She pulled vanilla chapstick out of her pocket and, popping the cap off, brought it to her lips. He swore he could smell the vanilla, and suddenly, maybe from the wine, he began to feel overcome. The sun threaded through her golden locks and seemed to mesmerize him; he stared at her dreamily, and she was about to question his gaze when her eyes began to return it without her even realizing it. Their lips moved towards each other, pulling their bodies behind them.

She tasted sweet from the wine, pears and apples and autumn honey dripping on his tongue. Spice danced through his senses and his eyes closed. Soft and assertive at the same time, she returned his kiss, leaving sweetness lingering just so on his tongue. They paused gently, letting but a tiny bit of space between one another's lips.

"Cheers," he whispered dreamily.