The CrushThe vines were nearly picked clean, and the work was shifting to the winery. There, the fermenters continued to fill up, Vito's staff walked around the building with notepads and pencils monitoring the progress of the juice, and hoses were slowly disappearing, to be stored away for a few weeks until they were needed again.
I longed to forget what I knew, to focus only on the grapes on the vine, but I couldn't. I worked, but I was distracted.
Vito supervised most of this activity but, by now, was spending more of his time on the catwalk platforms that laced the air above the fermenters and the winery's remaining old wooden vats. From this place, he could peer into the vats, using sight, smell, and, sometimes, taste to decide how well the wine was proceeding, and walk to the next
