A gentle breeze stirred through the tree limbs of the already warm morning, and pine needles crunched under his feet as Merriwhether walked past shimmering grey green santolina, sage and lavender to the garage. He stoped to admire his vineyard. The grapes basked in the heat, sweating a little, like rows of plump vacationers on chaise longues along a pool in December.
Merriwhether was pleased, absorbing the view, the ultraviolet rays, the quiet, and the gentle heat on the early fall day. As birds chirped and flitted on the eaves of the garage, content as Merriwhether was, one thought disturbed his peace of mind, the restful kingdom of his soul. That was, were the neighbors planting marijuana plants between the rows of grapes again?