before the early bud, came the late frost

Go, little book, and wish to all
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,
A bin of wine, a spice of wit,
A house with lawns enclosing it,
A living river by the door,
A nightingale in the sycamore! 

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)




A fitting bit of prose for this first blog post.  Wine and words.