Details matter. For me, details are like a recipe’s ingredients. If you miss one, no matter how insignificant it might seem, things can go south in a hurry. Details are the tiny heroes laboring in our lives and work. They turn “good” into “great.” They’re the bridge from “almost there” to “nailed it.”

Admittedly, some details are more important than others. While each is a brushstroke in the portrait, some are distinctly communicative, and others are mere fillers. Again, both create the whole. However, there will always be those details that transmit the whole’s epicentral purpose. Without them, all other details lose their meaning.

This particular philosophical rambling comes to mind only as I hold my Homeowners Association newsletter in my left hand and a glass of Shieldaig’s 30-year-old Speyside in my right. In my left hand are several pages of detail-oriented instructions from the HOA concerning autumn cleanup, sidewalk care during winter, and pet policies. There’s also a decent-sized note with pictures detailing the acceptable color schemes for the neighborhood. But there’s a problem. The approved color schemes have been presented in black and white.

Like spiced apple rings without spice or a map without street names, an organization that knows the exact height of my mailbox has communicated approved color schemes while forgetting the most crucial detail: color.

Thankfully, the communication from my right hand is far different. Wafting with precision, the Shieldaig 30-year-old’s nose communicates zesty vanilla and sun-dried apricots. In between frustration-betraying winces conjured by an article about trees that were once required but are now outlawed, a sip brings a calming wash of caramel-soaked oats, cinnamon, and citrus jam. The finish is just long enough to see the infuriation released through a chuckle’s valve. The decreasing pressure is replaced with peppery oak and the apricots from the nose—and a desire to join the HOA board.

Rest assured, I’d savor this amber-hued antidote to HOA absurdities before each gathering. I’d do so imagining a world where every color-coded regulation arrives with actual color. I’d tip back imagining that formerly mandated but now illegal trees are removed and replaced at the HOA management company’s expense. In other words, I’d imagine sanity’s details.