May 9th. 6:00 PM. The lawn at The Copperhead Lodge: The sun is dipping low, casting long, dramatic shadows across the grass—the kind of shadows that make a gal look like she’s actually mastered the Warrior II pose, even if she’s mostly just trying not to spill her drink.

We provide the atmosphere… The mountain air, the crispy Sauvignon that tastes of tropical citrus and lost youth.

You provide the flexibility—or at least a spirited attempt at it.

It’s yoga. It’s wine. It’s the realization that life is too short to stretch without a glass of something fermented in your hand.

Don't be the person who misses this and spends the rest of the spring wondering why their chakras feel like unwashed winter wool.