It was right after midday on a Saturday, fifteen minutes late picking up mom from church. Sea Foam mist belching grey smoke out the back of my truck, and the chickens came around the 83-year old woman to roost. Not one minute too soon. We whisked out of the parking lot west, on our way home.
I parked the truck for a well-needed rest and walked to whole foods. Ample time was spent between the refrigerated beverage and shelved wine as I debated between the $1.99 New Castle and the larger, slightly more expensive bottle. I think I made a good decision, as I popped the top in front of the store on the edge of a rock-lined flower bed. I was already sold on the Made in England moniker, before I took my slightly inebriated walk back home.