Corks

 Those of you who enjoy bubbly know the wiles of corks. They do an incomparable job in that they ''breath" so wine makers say, even though at times, they appear to be made of concrete. Wine makers of any worth use cork from the cork tree that has an amazing bark. We had one in our backyard that succumbed to my dad's hoe which saddened the thirteen year old me, because I accidentally discovered its singular beauty and texture. But enough of history. More recent history was a time when my husband and I, world travellers, happened into the Matterhorn area. As you may know, it's a mountain climbing mecca in Europe if not the globe.  It is famous and has a cemetry that seems small. Many of the brave mountain climbers since its inception in 1906 lay at rest in it having been claimed by the mountain. It see that today, it has changed but in those times, their very climbing gear was resting on their grave stone with them.  It seems a small village. We stayed at a tiny hotel after strolling in the streets that went up and down and around twisting at random like a pathway in the hilly grassy area.  It had been a long train ride to get to the base of the Matterhorn,  and to relax after finding a place to eat some excellent fish, we found a bubbly wine shop and bought a bottle. That evening after gazing at the magnificent part of the peak that we hoped to see, and that clouds flirted with our doing so, we decided to open our heavy bottle of corked wine and enjoy, also, the bit of tasty cheese we found. The cosy little room unlike a Western hotel, looked like someone's guest space. We placed the bottle on the table with four chairs around it beside a big window of various panes but covered with a lovely lace curtain, and proceeded to open the wine. It was a struggle, but finally with a gigantic pop, it revealed itself along with a deal of foam. We had both to duck the cork as it flew like a rocket out of the bottle top. We knew the cork had ricoched somewhere, but where? Try as we might, we couldn't find it. In the morning we had to leave early and busied ourselves with that before sitting for a moment to have the excellent coffee that was provided. As we sat at the table to enjoy our last look out the window at the Matterhorn we hoped was there behind the clouds, we saw our cork, caught high in the lace curtain. We laughed but left it thinking another couple, might find it with the same delight we had in putting it there.