Seasons form and mature you. Each is needed just as a year must have different seasons.
JEANNE GUYON
I LIE IN bed trying not to stir, trying to let Gerard sleep. I turn my head on my pillow and through the tall west-facing windows I watch the sky turn from the ink of night to the blush of dawn. I long to greet the morning in the vineyard. I listen to Gerard's steady breathing and decide I can slip out of bed without waking him. I ease the covers off and inch my way to the edge of the bed. Once out, I find a fleece sweatshirt of Gerard's in the closet, pull it over my pajamas, and step into my shearling-lined boots. I brush my teeth and my hair, put my cell phone in my pocket, and make my way down to the kitchen for coffee.
I place my mug under the spigot of the built-in coffeemaker and press the coffee icon on the panel. With my steaming mug of brew in hand, I step out the back door, cross the drive, and step over the low rock wall that surrounds the vineyard. The fall morning is crisp and musky, the organic scent of earth and vines like a welcome embrace. I sit on the wall facing the vineyard and sip my coffee. The deep magentas, ambers, and russets of the leaves on the vines are a fiery display of the Master's creativity. Since childhood, the peace of late fall following the activity of the crush has been my favorite season to be amongst the vines.
I'm awed. Silenced. By the glory before me. The sun peeks over the mountains at the end of the valley, casting the light of a new day. I warm my hands on the mug and raise my gaze heavenward in an act of worship.
The valley takes me back to my childhood. It's here that I'm most at home.
I'm grateful for the time alone before Gerard, Jason, and Andee wake and the activity of the day begins. I think about Andee. Is Jason serious about his relationship with her? She's beautiful, but there's an edge to her. She isn't lacking in confidence, that's for sure. She is bold, in control, and . . . what? Something's nagged since spending the evening with her and Jason after they arrived last night. There's something under the surface that I can't put my finger on.
I struggled last night to find common ground with Andee. Maybe I'll get some time alone with Jason. I'd like to understand what he's drawn to in her.
I put thoughts of Andee aside, take the last swallow of my coffee, and then leave the mug sitting on the rock wall. I want to walk and spend some time with God amidst the beauty of His creation.
I choose a row and amble between the vines. I stop now and then to watch a rabbit shoot between the stalks or to watch as a vine seems to lose its reluctant hold on a fall leaf as it spirals to the ground. Though I'm alone, I'm aware of the Presence walking and watching with me. I smile at the thought and sense His delight.
I stop and look at the vines on my left. They are new vines, graphed this past spring. They won't bear fruit until next year. I think back to my days at Cal Poly in the school of horticulture and crop science. I graduated with a concentration in viticulture and winemaking, of course. Though I've never used the degree, the knowledge has served me well with both Gerard and Brigitte.
The process of graphing, attaching a new vine, even a new grape variety, to an old stock always fascinated me. I rub a finger along the crown where the new vine was attached and a thought breezes through my mind. I am the vine; you are the branches. I think back to what I know of vines and branches. It is the vine or the stalk that nourishes the branches. I look at the visual before me and sense the Spirit's whisper.
There's more . . .
I tip my head. What do You want me to see?
I wander further down the row and see vine after vine after vine. I lift my head and look around me—rows of grapes scale the earth for as far as I can see. I think of the passage from John and Jesus' metaphor of vine and branches. It was, I remember, one of my mother's favorite parts of Scripture. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I open the Bible app and scroll to the book of John, searching for the passage. I read words I've read a hundred times before.
"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned."
I look back at the row of vines with the new branches graphed to them and think of the process of graphing. How the crown of the stalk is cut to expose the heart of the vine. Likewise, the new branch is cut, also exposing its heart. The two hearts are placed together and the nourishment from the stalk, or the vine, feeds the branch.
None of this is new information to me, but for the first time, I see it with eyes of understanding. And understanding turns to longing . . . to be graphed to Jesus—for our hearts to beat in unison. To remain so close to Him that I'm nourished and strengthened daily. "Oh, how I need Your strength."
I drop my phone back into my pocket and turn to walk back to the house, but as I go I have the sense that my business in the vineyard isn't finished. That God has something more He wants me to see. I stop again and look around. I wait. Then I reach for my phone again and return to the passage in John. This time I read from the beginning:
I am the true vine and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
I still as a sense of knowing settles in my soul.
Jenna, a season of pruning is at hand. Remain in Me.
As clarity dawns, I shudder. What will God cut from my life? Then ashamed, I'm reminded that pruning brings health and fruit. I turn in a slow circle and look again at the thousands of acres stretched before me—acres of healthy, fruit-bearing vines. And fear is replaced with desire. "Yes, Lord. Cut away the dead branches and prune any that You know will bear fruit for Your glory."
As I walk back to the house and take in, again, the vibrant fall colors, I know it's nearing the end of a season. Soon, all will seem barren and stripped. The branches will be cut and pruned.
A cold, gray season of dormancy lies just ahead.
I shiver and pull the fleece close.
I stop at the wall, pick up my mug, and head back to the house without a backwards glance.
When I walk in the back door, Jason is standing at the coffeemaker as coffee streams into his mug. "Hey, you're up early."
"Yeah, it's in the genes. Out for a walk?"
I walk to the sink and rinse my mug. "Just wandering through the vineyard. It's a beautiful morning."
Jason looks past me out the window above the sink. "Looks like it."
"I'm glad you and Andee joined us. I've wanted to get to know her."
He chuckles. "Yeah? So what do you think?"
I hesitate. "I don't know. She's . . . beautiful."
"That she is, but beauty's only skin deep. We both know that."
I nod and laugh. "I do now."
Jason leans against the granite counter and sips his coffee.
"Are you in love with her?" I ask.
He looks out the window behind me again and seems thoughtful. "I'm drawn to her."
"What draws you?"
He laughs again. "The challenge."
"Jason . . ."
He sets his cup on the counter and raises both hands in a sign of surrender. "I know. I know." He wipes his palms on his jeans and then sticks his hands in the front pockets. "There's something behind all those walls she's worked so hard to build. I want to find out what it is—who she is. I want to get beyond the walls, because I think there's more there." He shrugs. "Crazy?"
"No. But . . ."
"Sure to get hurt?"
I nod. "Yeah."
"I don't know, Jen, sometimes I see something in her. I can't explain it, but—"
"I know, I saw it too. I was thinking about her while I walked. She's wistful, or . . . I don't know. Something doesn't fit with the persona she presents."
"Exactly. You know me, I've always loved a good puzzle."
I nod and note the unsettling of my spirit. "Jason, be careful."
Andee walks, or staggers, into the kitchen and yawns. She looks from Jason to me. "You're up? Coffee?"
Jason turns, grabs a mug from the cabinet behind him, sets it under the spigot, and taps the coffee icon. Once the cup is full, he hands it to her. She takes a sip. "Ugh . . . got anything"—she lifts the cup to her nose and sniffs—"stronger?"
Jason laughs. "We could add a shot of something if you'd like."
Andee sneers at him. "Espresso. Do you have any espresso?"
Jason directs a smile at me. "She's not a morning person."
I laugh. "I see that."
Jason takes her cup, sets it on the counter, grabs a clean one, and starts over.
"I'm a morning person. I'm just not a"—she glances at the digital clock on the coffeemaker—"barely post-dawn person."
Jason hands her the fresh cup. "What are you doing up?"
"I thought I'd write. Knock out a chapter or two before breakfast."
Ah yes. She's a writer. "What are you working on, Andee?"
"Another financial book, this one empowering women." She sips the espresso. "Now, this is worth drinking." She leans against the counter next to Jason and seems to almost relax.
"Do you enjoy writing?"
"Enjoy it?" She runs one hand through her mane of hair. "Huh, I've never thought about it. I enjoy the advances and the royalties." She laughs. "But the writing itself is too solitary for my taste."
"Not enough action."
Andee looks up at Jason and, for the first time, I see a flash of vulnerability in her eyes, but it passes. "You've got it."
"What do you enjoy?" I take my mug out of the sink and head to the coffeemaker for a second cup.
"Twenty questions? Okay, I'll play. What do I enjoy?"
As she thinks, I notice her navy satin pajamas and matching robe and the way her blonde hair shines like gold against the dark satin. I look down at the too-big fleece and shearling boots I'm wearing over cotton striped pajamas and wish I'd given a little more thought to what I wore on my walk.
"I enjoy financial security. I enjoy determining my own destiny—setting goals and attaining them. I enjoy advising others how to do the same."
I nod.
Jason laughs. "I think what Jenna may be asking is what you do for fun—hobbies, you know." I watch as any opening in Andee's fortress closes. Her defenses engage.
"My fun is my work." Her tone is tight. "Speaking of which, I need to get to it. Thanks for the coffee. What time is breakfast?"
I glance at the note Estelle left on the fridge. "Looks like breakfast is at 9:00."
"Great." She turns to walk out, but then stops and turns back. "By the way, I have a meeting with a client this afternoon." She looks at Jason. "You'll be gone, right?"
"Yeah, I'll be with Gerard for a few hours."
"Great. You don't mind do you, Jenna? Thought I'd save myself a trip since I'm here."
"No problem."
Thank heaven. I had no idea what Andee and I would do with time alone together.