What Dogs Promise

It was an all day affair, given the perfect weather and company.

Take a drive out 250 and stop where we want to.

There was Keswick Vineyards under an umbrella on an impossibly beautiful afternoon.

After tasting through eight wines and discussing our pourer's beagles, Molly and Tuck, we settled in for glasses of the 2012 Viognier, acidic with great length on the palate and layers of pear and apricot.

Dogs were everywhere at the winery, including a sad-faced hound from the Fluvanna SPCA, to whom I gave much love and hopes for a loving family.

I had to laugh at the woman telling her dog, "Remember what you promised!"

To be honest, he didn't look like he'd promised anything.

There was the Barbecue Exchange for brisket, pulled pork, hushpuppies and fries, where I met the man in charge of the 'cue, Van.

"You like tofu?" he asked after our discussion of his pig and cow. Do I look like I like tofu?

His meat was enjoyed at a table on the porch of the Exchange Hotel.

It wasn't my first time at the Exchange, although last time was inside to meet the resident ghost and today was solely for shade during lunch.

Yes, the same hotel where women used to sell fried chicken to the soldiers on the trains passing through Gordonsville.

And, yes, a train passed by and, no, I had no fried chicken to sell.

At Barboursville Vineyard, it was an oversized orange beach towel under a shady tree for a bottle of Vermentino Reserve 2012, dry and with a nice minerality.

Around us, people boringly discussed politics, a couple looked at their phones rather than each other and children rolled down the hill, one landing against my wine glass, which fortunately, I was holding tight.

The endless parade of new arrivals provided more than enough fodder for conversation as we sipped.

Really, platform shoes for winery hopping?

There was a stroll on the downtown mall to decide on a dinner location with Petit Pois the winner because they had outdoor tables and moules.

Add to the mussels a bottle of Virginia Fizz, a plate of fromage and tartare de boeuf, and you've got a recipe for several hours' pleasure.

Dogs slept while tables filled up and we marveled at the briskness of a Sunday night's business on the mall.

Couldn't help hoping that Richmond restaurants were just as busy tonight.

I ran into the delightful musician Guion of the Nettles, on his turf for a change, and heard about his recent adventures with outdoor pizza.

Then there was a stroll through a nearby neighborhood, admiring elaborate porches, hidden gardens and running into a familiar face from Richmond, out walking his dog.

Twelve hours and some mighty fine conversation later, I'd start all over and do it again.

Ready when my ride is.