Honeyed pale gold. There’s a warmth to it before you even smell it. The nose is alive with both orchard and garden: apple, citrus, ripe peach, and then something drier creeps in — dried flowers, a bit of potpourri, a dusting of spice. Underneath, a nutty, yeasty murmur, like bread left to rise a little too long and rewarded for it. On the palate it’s got some welcome weight, generous without tipping into heavy, the acidity there but relaxed, more a hum than a hook. It moves broad and soft across the tongue, and just when you think it might go slack, a little saline, a little lemon zest and brightness. If this wine were a photograph, it’d be a sun-warmed still life — peaches and dried flowers on a linen tablecloth, golden hour light slanting through. Nothing urgent about it, just quiet abundance.