Even after two decades in the Pacific Northwest, I still had the idea that Woodinville wine country was a far off place in the distance somewhere on Seattle’s Eastside. Across the bridges, past Mercer Island, over Kirkland and Kenmore, beyond Bothell. In a galaxy far, far away. But it’s closer than you think.
My knowledge of the Tri-Cities area had been somewhere between the Hanford Site and the Kennewick Man over the last fifteen years of my Northwest residence. It seemed a flat, uninteresting corridor in the lower middle of Washington state with nothing but space to offer, overshadowed by the evergreen of Seattle further west.