A Murphy's Law of A Very Good Day

LindaK says she knows how to spell LOVE. She does it with wine.

This is one of those mid-spring (mid-summer feel) days when I'm glad I know LindaK. We had this lovely drive up to the Peaks of Otter planned with a picnic packed and in the car, but the universe kept working against us.

First it was that dang Ironman competition that kept me in Vinton with no way (that I knew of) to get out until I fumbled onto an exit and had to drive back through Roanoke to find my way. Then we found the entrances to the Blue Ridge Parkway closed for god knows what reason. Then we drove toward this winery near Bedford (whose name I forget) hoping to find a back road to the Peaks. No dice.

But the winery provided a place to spread the picnic and a couple of things to look at, so we were happy just to be together after a difficult week for both of us.

Hotter than my 100-yard-dash back in the day, fumbling at every turn to find our way, but ultimately with a small adjustment, we had a dandy time (even though LindaK didn't like my gazpacho; there's no accounting for taste). 

LindaK with her buddy bottles.

I don't drink, so what am I doing here?

I know how this dude feels.

I do so like dogs, LindaK. Especially dogs in ties.

Somebody's getting hungry. 

Pampa Appleseed and some dude with a pot on his head.