Somewhere between a sun-kissed sigh and a cellar-bound secret, this vineyard dreams aloud. That house with its rusted hat and ivy-breath windows? It’s clearly seen weddings, weather forecasts, and the occasional goat council. The grapes hang like gossip—plump, purple, and ready to spill the juiciest tales of late summer mischief. And the hills? They’re just eavesdropping in velvet silence.
With stained fingertips and cypress dreams,
—Nora 🍇🏡✨