My last column highlighted the “chicken-soup effect” a Russian Imperial Stout can have on a bleak winter day.
Another favorite — and potentially mood enhancing — cold weather go-to is the barleywine. Not actually a wine, it takes its name from being a strong beer with wine-like gravity (i.e. alcohol content).
This beer is another great sipper, and its big hop character combined with a deep, amber-red-brown maltiness can brighten up almost any dark day.
Generally between 8 to 12 percent ABV for a nice impression of warmth, it also has big malt sweetness balanced by moderate to heavy hoppiness.
Similar to, yet stronger than, an Old Ale, the barleywine is another English style represented by many great versions on each side of the Atlantic.
According to Dave Carpenter of Craft Beer and Brewing Magazine, an English barleywine “exhibits a chewy, complex malt body that evokes plums and toffee and…
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Greetings! I thought I’d update our blog to share some exciting news. As of today, your friends and neighbors at Groovice have a new name: Blueberry! Why change our name, you ask? Well, who doesn’t love blueberries? Our real reasons actually run much deeper. We are on a mission to build a network for neighbors […]
The Wise Old Owl
Perched on the tree
Others loved the chatter
The hare, the deer
The badgers, the squirrels
All seeing themselves as superior to the others
All want to be heard
All want to be seen
But the owl
the wise old owl
perched quietly on the branch
Watched and Listened
As they argued
Who was the best, the smartest
Who should be the leader
The wise old old was silent
Not for lack of opinion or thought
He in fact had many ideas
Many thoughts and observations about the world
But now was not the time
there was still so much learning to do
still so much observing to do
As he watched the world move
in all its faults and glory
He did not feel the need to babble ideas
If he had not seen…
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The word is out that I don’t have work again today, but that won’t keep me inside, for I’ll likely head into the office for a few hours. Got to, my pretties, for no play, no pay, as they say. But I’ll be able to write tomorrow–I mean, there was a lot yesterday . . .
Though I didn’t expect to keep at it as much as I did, by the time I called it quits last night I’d put twelve hundred and fifty-two words into the story bank, and that’s quite a bit. It was slow because trying to take these images in your head and make them into strings of words that make is a hard job, and right around eight PM–or, as my kids would say, twenty hours–I twisted my face into a thoughtful grimace and said, “Hey, I forgot to eat dinner.” So I made some egg rolls and…
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