In November, we drank the first glass of the raw field blend and it was delicious—light, with a hint of citrus. The color in mid November was orange, a blush, surprised to find itself here in our midst. The wine grows tawnier by the week as we enter deep winter. The fruit fades into something older and wiser. At first, I thought I heard the Brianna leading the five-figured quadrille. She nodded and moved back, allowing the Frontenac to come to the center. Always, like a drumbeat in the background, the steady breath of the LaCrescent (the grapes were pressed on LaCrescent must). I cannot see the Marquette just yet, but I am new to the dance, and they are testing me to see what I might know. In the light of the lamps, hands chilled, the wine is a reminder of summer.