LIVING SMALL: THE DOWNSIZING DILEMMA

St. Helena, CA

Those who have been with us (suffered with us?) since the early days will remember our extreme downsizing effort. In 2008, our challenge was to liquidate a four-bedroom house, two cars, a thriving wine shop and the ridiculous amount of stuff that filled them all up. By October 2010, we had ridded ourselves of the whole kit and the caboodle too, sailing away with what fit in a 38' boat.

Now, four years hence, I've made a bit of a cottage industry out of writing about my experiences.

In an article for Gannett's NowU.com, I talk about the weighty emotional toll of getting rid of all my stuff and offer retroactive advice to myself about how it might have been easier:

8 Steps to Free Your Home (and Life) of Clutter

There's always a back story, and in my case, it comes in the form of blog posts. In the article, I mention the measuring cup that made me cry and the bird's nest that held a hidden message about my own safety at sea. Now you can read the rest of the story.

Part two of the series details the actual nuts and bolts of how we disposed of all our stuff:

Secrets to Gifting and Listing All You Stuff

I mention frantically searching for a box to ship my office chair, and here's the whole hilarious story. Then there's the time I listed all our furniture on Craigslist, not expecting people to show up the same day to pick it up. And our poorly timed first yard sale on the hottest day of the summer and the second.

Those were intense days, full of hard labor and heavy dreaming. But oh how I love a story with a happy ending.

Leaving Manteo at sunrise, October 2010.

WINE COUNTRY: SHAKEN, NOT STIRRED

St. Helena, CA

Unless you've had your head somewhere unmentionable, you probably know we had a significant earthquake in Napa Valley last weekend. At 3:20 a.m. on August 24, a strong 6.0 quake rolled through, the California equivalent of hazing for new residents. Welcome to our state, where living on land sometimes simulates living on a boat.

We were fine here in St. Helena, just over 20 miles from the epicenter, but it was a BIG one. Our little cottage was creaking and the (four) dishes in the cabinets were rattling. We had no doubt about what was happening.

Napa, the town, only a few miles from the epicenter in American Canyon, took the worst hit, but perhaps the greatest casualty was truth in the media. As they tried to make sense (and the most) out of the shakeup, there were some ugly missteps.

One local TV station used a photo of grapes on the ground, reporting that the earthquake was big enough to "shake the grapes right off the vine." The photo showed bunches that had been pruned -- intentionally, something anyone in Napa could have told them, had they asked. Okay, breaking coverage on Live TV, but....

... et tu, Washington Post? An early article from WashingtonPost.com claimed the quake, "couldn't have come at a worse time," which was their attempt tie the quake to California's drought. However, had they asked, they would have learned that the quake hit at the best possible time (if there is one?): Most fermenting tanks were empty and waiting for imminent harvest. And most significantly, the timing at 3:20 a.m. meant that wineries were empty. Had the quake occurred during the day or even a few days later during harvest, the story would have been quite different.

Certainly there was significant damage, and some wineries had devastating losses, but only one week later, Napa Valley Vintners reports on Twitter that 95% of wineries are back in business. Something you would not know if you read Outside magazine, the worst offender and the publication that prompted me to write this post. Last night on Twitter:

I added the NOT TRUE, lest I perpetuate a falsehood.

"With Napa out of commission"?!?!? It's been a week with ample opportunity to vet the impact of the earthquake on the Napa wine industry. This was Outside's second volley on Twitter promoting this lame article, an incredibly lazy interview of the Whole Foods global wine buyer, the sole source, who, contrary to the inflammatory Tweets and headline, says the earthquake will have no effect on supply. On the first Twitter post, I was the only one who took Outside to task, but fortunately on the one above, others started chiming in. Disappointing, lax "reporting" from Outside, a magazine that I've previously respected.

Of course, there was some non-shaky reporting going on, among the best was AFPs Glenn Chapman, who grasped the nuances of how things shook out, so to speak, even in a breaking story. Ironically, he also quoted Chip, my Chip, who works at Silver Oak: "I think our wine tastes better after being shaken, not stirred." Chip always knows the right thing to say.

Here's a roundup of local paper front pages from wash post, a visual that underscores the significance of this story in the local market.

*As a bizarre footnote to this earthquake incident, we were in one other earthquake, three years ago by one day. That whole incident was much more alarming and has a much stranger (and longer) story.

CRUISING WORLD: TAKING SHELTER

St. Helena, CA

We're back on land, but you wouldn't know by looking at Cruising World. My article about Safe Havens in the Exumas came out in the September issue! It's my first national magazine spread and with my own photos to boot.

Unfortunately, it isn't available online, but I captured it here.

BONUS: That's our daughter Casey and her boyfriend Rémi on the upper right.

For the record, those two photos of me, snorkeling and sitting in the hanging chair, were taken by Chip Sellarole.

Today, I'm grateful for: *finally* making a living as a writer! (See all recent clips @ tammykennon.com)

LIVING LARGE: MY SUNSET WALK

St. Helena, CA

Sunset and St. Helena.

As the sun dropped behind the Mayacamas Mountains, I headed southeast from my house, walking along the railroad tracks. In the late August dusk, the grapes hang heavy on the vines, the deep purple of the world's worst bruise. I take a sample, plump and dark, the grape threatening to burst under its own goodness. It erupts in my mouth, ripe juice, sweet and soft, a stark contrast to the bite of the skin, the crunch of the seeds.

Rounding the third vineyard, I reach our little local library and drop off my Fodor's guide to Northern California. As I turn back to the north, the glory of Mount St. Helena looms in the distance, backlit by the invisible sun.

I saw a report today that claimed my money buys a lot less in California than it does in other parts of the country, but I think they forgot to figure in the things money can't buy, the sweeping valley all green and gold and purple, the crisp cool air that settles in after the bright heat of the day, the thrum of promise and excitement as harvest time approaches.

The low moan of the wine train comes from the south, and I can hear the train slowly lumbering up, chugging, chugging, until it's right beside me. The conductor leans his head out the window.

"Hello," I say as he passes.

"You have a great evening!" he calls.

"You, too!" I reply.

And looking out across our beautiful valley, I think, how could we not have a great evening.

How could we not?