My first experience with Michigan was in the airport at Detroit. I thank Providence that my first impression was a fleeting one. My personal dislike for airports is a story for another day, and it does not belong in a wine column; especially the part with four-letter words. The airport was soon out of my system when I got into the countryside and Franco and I headed towards Traverse City.

We Southerners revere our mothers!  Since 1912, the second Sunday in May has been set aside to commemorate motherhood.  The mid-spring celebration comes when days are long, gardens are lush with flowers and the promise of summer is in the air.  What better time to honor our Mamas!

Once again I find myself with the same old problem. Franco went and fell in love with another wine region; this time it’s the Finger Lakes. I have to bribe him to get going because we have another assignment and the only thing that will work is a picnic lunch consisting of McDonalds Burgers, French Fries and a bottle of Lakes Region Sparkling Rose. I like the combo, but it’s on my dime. I agreed and I sent the luncheon tab to Margaret Evans. I’ll take the heat, but at least it will get us to Long Island on time to get some work done.