Sunset Cabernet Sauvignon

My only god is the Sun. Without it, nothing would exist—no lush forests, no shimmering oceans, no late-harvest grapes ripening into deep, velvety Cabernet Sauvignon. It’s the Sun that kisses the vines, swelling the berries with sugar and gifting them the warmth they need for the slow alchemy of wine.

But let’s imagine, just for a moment, that the Sun were to vanish, snuffed out like a candle in a sudden cosmic gust.

First, darkness would fall instantly. Within minutes, Earth would be swallowed by an abyss of night. The sky, stripped of its master, would become a black mirror, with only distant stars casting their cold, indifferent glow.

Then would come the cold. A creeping, merciless cold, seeping into everything. Temperatures would plunge—at first, like an early winter, then like an ice age crashing down overnight. Within days, rivers would freeze into glass sculptures, and within a year, the oceans would harden into vast sheets of ice. Beneath that frozen shell, perhaps a whisper of life would linger, hiding in the depths, a final echo of what once was.

Without sunlight, trees would stand frozen in silent agony. Meadows would turn to barren wastelands. No more flowers, no more fruit, no more wine. The vineyards would collapse, forsaken by their solar god.

Don Carol