Marcien Chronicles

The new year finds us with a new, old farm.

The goat looked me in the eye – a deep stare as though she needed to know my intent; my soul.

If you had told me as a wide-eyed college student in NYC that I would someday run a winery, vineyard and farm for almost four decades, I would have said you were nuts.

The year was around 1971. I was in 7th or 8th grade and my mother, recently divorced, wanted to live in the country.