The year is twenty-twenty and you’ve had about enough of this ****. It’s time to get away.

When I think about paradise, I don’t think about heaven. Sailing above the clouds seems so distant now (and quite difficult to get to during a pandemic travel ban, I might add), so we are left with hopping in our vehicles and hitting the road, driving as far as we can to find newness and relaxation.

I find my peace in wine country.

I spent the better half of this year exploring these fields of vines, circling chateaus of many different shapes and sizes. Some with a tuscan flare, some with the smell of home, and some with the grandeur of a french mansion. I dream of a time where I can call one of these “domains” my permanent residence, but, we’ll see.

Among these escapes, I find myself grateful.

I find myself in awe.

I find myself.

Visiting these rolling hills in the valley I call home, gives me a sense of purpose, a glimmer of hope, and a reminder that it will all be okay. Tasting the ground in a glass is just a fraction of the beauty and just a touch of the experience.

You can find this, just beyond; AtTheJoy.

123339631_3840404492636921_7378685000989816306_o (1).jpg

Arriving AtTheJoy, I instantly felt relief.

It was a space where I immediately knew I was going to be free to be myself again and return from a lost-ness this shattered year has unveiled.

The space is clean and clear; as if it is knows your mind will follow suit.

The vineyard, planted as if to sit the chateau in the middle of a grand maze and you had found the end with ease.

The wine, bursting with celebration and joy (no pun intended).

As my dearest friends begun to arrive, it was as if pieces of me were being brought back together for a retreat that my soul had longed for. I realized that I was blessed with every laugh, every pour, and ever spark from the fire, disassembling the me before and recreating a connection, dwindling from hours of stale Zoom calls and monotonous mask wearing.

All I can say, is there is, without a doubt, a light at the end of the tunnel.

Amenities simply add to a gathering of lovely people; they aren’t essential, they just prepare ways to commune.

Rounding up every chair we could find, making space, and telling embarrassing stories by the fire.

Soaking in the tub during morning mist, with coffee and cuddles.

A fireplace sharing two rooms, as if to connect two separate conversations, just with warmth.

The house was full enough for entertainment, but empty enough that we could define our space and add our own touch.

I brought in a box of vintage artifacts that slowly revived The Last Supper on a table, sprinkled with timeless art. If only Michelangelo could see.

Trust me, he’d be impressed.

123336387_3840405522636818_6452867105357408602_o (1).jpg

It’s a funny thing, beauty, you know, sometimes you feel like you’re the only one who sees it.

This, however, is not one of these times.

Everyone felt this. The sun started to set around six and Jerry just whispered “you know, there’s not many places, in the whole world right now, that are better than this right here.” He’s known to bring a philosophical glow to a conversation, but as soon as he spoke this-- it was as if we all realized our blessings. “Highly fortunate” doesn’t even cut it. We were uniquely blessed.

During our stay, we experienced this light with flying colors from the sun. Purple haze, blurring the moon, almost full, but more than enough. Orange and yellow streams sat atop the changing vines for longer than expected;

as if God had hung on to the sun a bit longer, just for us.

It takes a lot of balls to just do sparkling wine in the midst of a wannabe burgundy world (no offense, Oregon).

I can’t tell you how tired my tongue has become from tasting the Willamette cliché; Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. However, when pressed fast and constrained and explored; these same grapes can bring champenoise; a case for celebration and exclamations of “cheers” until the night ends.

Lytle-Barnett brings a newness to Oregon wine country; the kind that it has needed for decades.

The sparkling wine fills a void in our hearts, mouths, and bellies.

To put it into words is actually quite challenging. It’s like one of those jokes that you retell and it doesn’t come out as smooth and you remark “you just had to be there.” Hopefully these photos help give you a little glimpse in the wondrous beauty that is At the Joy.