The ad valorem wine tax is an unprecedented change in Alberta’s 30+ years of privatized liquor history. We have never had a system different to the standard flat rate. Therefore we are calling for this new ad valorem tax to be reviewed and revised a year after its effect. There are a plethora of small independent businesses in Alberta that will not be able to survive the 5 years before this change is reviewed. The continued erosion of businesses and wines in our province will lead to a sterile landscape where Albertans have little choice. This is detrimental to the livelihoods of Albertans both economically and culturally.

One evening this week I was completely spellbound by the beauty of a wine that came my way. It was a mature bottle from a producer whose lofty reputation I had long felt was unjustified, and the experience changed my mind by blowing it. But I've been writing too much about wine lately and would rather share another example of the disarmingly auspicious impact of unexpected profundity.

It's well known that the wine industry is in crisis, and for myriad reasons of varying complexity. As a noun, "wine” seems to be stigmatically burdened in many ways, and I wonder if it's time to take everything that's beautiful about this inimitable gift from nature and start over with a new name. 

Immediacy is an increasingly essential virtue to consumers of every stripe. When you're introduced to a band that you find appealing, you can have their entire discography downloaded onto your phone within a matter of minutes. If you find yourself in need of a new pair of shoes, you can arrange to have them placed upon your doorstep within 24 hours. Whether through happenstance or pandering, many wines accommodate these expectations of immediacy—and this isn't necessarily a bad thing. 

As Earth continues its aloof encircling of the sun, it's increasingly difficult for the human passengers to keep up with the pace of life. The faultlessly frail are rendered physically or mentally broken by the world, and even the robust and boisterous amongst us—including those who suspiciously exhibit no confusion in regard to the stark irrationality of existence—seem to have to fight to find their place. Perhaps none of us really have a place anymore. 

2024 is decidedly not an average vintage, and it contains a multiplicity of stories. I would surmise that if somebody visited 150 different estates this year, they'd hear 150 distinct reports.