Remembering Joe Miami
Jim Shere, executive director of the Glen Ellen Historical Society, is on the hunt for some information and interviews. You can help.
If you knew Joe Miami, a mid-century Italian viticulturist, Jim would like to talk to you. Mary Kate Carter, a well-known volunteer with our Glen Ellen Village Fair Committee, is Joe Miami’s niece and she’s led Jim Shere to a few folks who knew Joe. Jim’s eager to talk to a few more.
Although, as Jim says, “Not well known by most of us, Joe is remembered with deep respect by a great number of our more seasoned winemakers.”
Jim seeks to examine some of the practices that Joe Miami believed in, including “how to recognize and encourage what nature intends, how to participate with life rather than manipulate and exploit it, and how to be carefully concerned about every step of the journey toward its eventual goal,” as Jim Shere discussed in a recent Kenwood Press article.
Based on Joe’s respect for our land, in the coming year Jim Shere is eager to initiate conversations that help define “who we are and where we live. Discussions will increasingly focus upon a right relationship to the land, and to the community – and they will deeply involve our lifestyle and our legacy.”
If you knew Joe Miami, back in the day, please contact Jim Shere. He prefers email at firstname.lastname@example.org, but will also respond to phone messages left at 935-3663.
Goats do roam
Glen Ellen is a wondrous place, among the most interesting of villages. On a recent ramble down one of our town’s unpaved lanes (and there are more than a few), I discovered a couple of remarkable architectural wonders.
First is a complicated structure that I initially and mistakenly called a chicken playground. Then informed of the structure’s purpose, I quickly corrected that to A Fantastic Goat Circus, which is just what this construction is. However, it’s not so obvious on first glance sans the critters that play there. They were busy napping out of sight behind the house.
Danny Everidge heard sweetie and me standing in his yard, oo-ing and ah-ing over the structure and speculating about its purpose. Danny emerged to greet us and explain that this Escher-esque ramp serves as a gymnastics playground for two pet goats, one miniature, the other larger, but hardly full size. The critters soon arrived.
The appropriately named Chip (for his chocolate chip colored coat), wears a lovely scarlet halter (implying that maybe he’s taken on neighborhood walks?). Chip’s playground partner is Shelby, apparently named after a fancy, fast Ford that is beyond my range (of price and vision). Shelby is petite and winsome, with a shiny black coat accented by a white crown and muzzle. Eager to display their climbing skills, both goats are charming little animals. At least I called them that, though Danny’s eye roll indicated that they might be a bit more trouble than they initially appear. Still, it’s obvious that Danny adores his two little charges.
Danny and his father, Michael Everidge, built the Goat Circus out of scrap lumber. The goats love it. With minimal encouragement, they climb up on the structure, mount the stairs and attain the top perch, where they can survey the surroundings. That includes a great goat’s view all the way down to Sonoma Creek where otters and kingfishers frolic in the shallows. That’s gotta be a goat’s paradise.