Summer sunshine simmers late into the day now. We gather tucked behind the shade of "The Big Tree" to pop our caps and fill our cups. The hazy hot days make for lazy dogs and longing humans---longing for a swig of special brew; a panoply of craft-brewed cunningness from coasts east, left and all points in-between.
The spring tide of beer washed over us and quenched a deep desire for good brew and good company. We have recreated happy hour at the local dive, minus the creaky, wobbly barstool and sticky bartop. The friends are the same; the conversation stirring----beer-soaked banter and chatter of all things local and some things global. When is Maxim going to open its doors; when will Martens Volvo shut down; how are the vineyards in Argentina? We are at once rooted in northwest DC like pork-slingers on Capitol Hill, and simultaneously blown to the far reaches of the globe with every Dog Hill Drunkard who has returned from a business or vacation trip and shares news of the world.
On these days, these Fridays of the mind, soul and body, we do imbibe. We quench, drench and drown out the stresses of the week and bask in the present company. Our frequent guardian through this is Stone Brewing. Never has there been a besmirchment of their craftwork. For the second time, Stone's Old Guardian appeared to swoosh us into the weekend. This is a fantastic beer, just hot enough to tingle, smooth enough to refresh, heavy enough to lighen our heads! On this ambassador of booze, we are swept along as if on a Flexible Flyer sled, its runners smooth, worn like river stones, fast as the days that ushered us all out of childhood and, somehow, brought us here to Dog Hill.