The Trunks are Outta Here!

The first step in re-training the vines is complete! Last year's dead wood is a thing of the past. Now on to bringing up the new growth back to the first wire.



You gotta take the successes where you can get them.



One of the things I noticed this year compare to last year is this year the vines look a lot hardier. They look like they've established themselves and are ready for business. At least that's what I'm hoping anyway.



The old trunks and branches get mowed up by the tractor to become mulch in the field. That should help keep the nitrogen high for the vines to absorb.



I was drinking wine with my next door neighbor last night and asked him if their vineyard was this much work at the beginning. Over a supersize bottle of Beringer Pinto Grigio he assured me that what is happening is completly normal. Who needs a shrink?



Remember enjoy and imbibe.

Farm Hands

Day after day our hands dig in the soil, the vines and the weeds. Pulling out the unwanted, pushing around the nourished, and pampering the blessed. Our hands are showing the toil of our work.

Tried wearing gloves, but the barrier between vine and skin is as if it is a vast desert of leather that can never be crossed. Ergo, the hands are naked. Exposed without shield to the elements of nature.

After working with hundreds of plants, our hands our permanently stained the color of green and dyed that of black dirt. Our fingernails look as if we just finished up a long hard day at the mechanic's shop. The blisters that are upon even deeper blisters, no longer hurt at the surface because the rawness is so deep.

Thorns from thistles and small pieces of wood from dead grape vine trunks embed themselves into our flesh, but the skin needs not to react to the intrusion. The tips of our fingers are so calloused that they have no more wrinkles. And the rest of our hands have now have more wrinkles than can be counted. Our fingernails our non-existent, smoothed down with the sandpaper of life in the vineyard.

We soak our hands nightly in vaseline, and attempt to suppress our pain with wine and pain killer. But the throbbing soreness still interupts our dreamless sleep.

The life of a worker in a vineyard. Even more of a reason to relish the flavors of the grape.

Remember enjoy and imbibe.

The 80/20 Rule

The grapes leaves arrive but not quite as planned. Last year, Kenny was quite optimistic with regard to the maturity of the plants. So I reluctantly tied up the vines last year as if they will be strong and fruitful from now on.

Now fast forward to the present, as you can from the photo, some of the vines were not as optimistic as the owner. What we're seeing is the 80/20 rule.

Twenty percent of the vines are growing nicely from the branches on the fruit load wire (bottom wire to the non-vintered). Beautiful shoots are nicely placed with loads of grape blossoms obediently beginning to hang down to make that lucious fruit. But they are not sprawled out all over the vineyard. Just in strategic locations. The location of the growth is somewhat telling. It's by the house and the garage and by the neighbor's trees.

Hmm......what gives? Maybe the vines were saved by the "heat" of the structures. Or maybe not. Maybe it's that those vines are closer to the water source and there's underground leakage. Or maybe the planets have aligned to send protective energy across just those sections. Who knows?

That leaves 80% growing up from the ground. Yes, I said the ground. Many of you may remember from last season, and the driving reason why I started a blog about life as a vinter was that I was so frustrated with the "training" of the vines from the ground.

The work is back breaking and slow and hot and whine, whine, whine. Geez, enough already. Poor you! Get over it! So moving on....

Well, we get to do it again for 80% of the vines. But this time there's more to the fun. First, we'll have to cut the old branches and trunks too for that matter, some 2"in diameter entangled in the wire. And more disentangling them from the new vines and disposing of them somewhere. Bonfire party here we come!

Only then do we get to retrain all the new vines back up to the fruit load wire....again. Resculpting the main vine to drive cordon shoots up to the second and third wire (called the canopy wires). Cordons are just shoots from that vine that is on that lowest wire.

It looks like not much harvest of grapes for wine this year. I think this might be a good time to try our hand at making our own wine. What'd ya think?

Thank goodness there is plenty of wine from mature, happy vines from all over the world happily chilling in our wine cooler. Waiting for me to just drink. Ahh....

Remember enjoy and imbibe.

Can't Get Away from the Farm

Yesterday was so marvelous! It started with searching for the right picnic food at the farmer's market at the Bastille area. The vendors were hawking everything from electronics to rose bushes. We picked up some cheese (goat and cow), spectacular sausage, cherries, tomatoes, avocado and of course, bread.

We met our friends at the Champs d'Elysses with picnic blanket in hand. They came with two bottles of wine. We were set. Cheese, sausage, tomatoes, bread....yum. The white peaches were the best.

Then it was off to the farm in the street. They brought hundreds of plants from the country to the city so the people who can't get out to see farms can see here. It was a surreal event seeing grape vines with the Arc d'Triomphe in the background. Pines, wheat, sunflowers, and hops. All kinds of plants grown here.

Then there was the products made by the farmers. There was turrade. A concoction of cheese, truffles, and mashed potatoes....wow. Champagne, wine, beer, oysters and mustard. All different kinds of mustard. I bought a jar of dijon mustard with green peppercorns for 3 euros. What a bargain!

The crowds were staggering. There's a great picture in the NY Times that shows the event and the crowds. Great crowds. But the crowds were pleasant. Happy to be enjoying the event. And so were we.

Today we are off to eat some croissants and an expresso. Then we're off to the Munch art exhibit. He's the artist who did the work "The Scream". And for lunch bread, cheese and a lovely glass of the Cote du Rhone.

Remember enjoy and imbibe.

Paris in the Springtime

When first arriving in Paris, the weather was everything I expected. Gray, drizzle, cold. And then ouila! The weather is amazing. Days of blue sky in the high 60s. Perfect. Each day has been better than the other. Manifique!

Last night we went to a souffle restaurant. Started with a cheese souffle for an entree (appetizer), moved to a fish souffle for the plat (main course) and then finished with a chocolate souffle. Wow! The two other souffle eating folks ate asparagus and herb souffles. Sharing all round. We need one of these restaurants in Palisade. The souffles served in white, scalloped bowls were light and fluffy. Beautifully prepared. Yum.

Did all the tourist stuff so far. I never tire of the eiffel tower, the Louvre, musee d'Orsay or Notre Dame. There were thousands of tourist all enjoying the view with me. French buildings as far as the eye can see. Yesterday it was off to Versailles. I've been there before but never made it to Marie Atoinette's estate. The main palace is decadent with gold, mirrors, crystal and fabric for as far as the eye can see. They say each room has been remodeled at least ten times. But at her estate, it is pastoral. Vineyards, stables, an unconstructed pond. Two story brick houses with thatch roofs. Very calming. They say she wanted to live the life of a peasant. Of course, without the threat of starvation and hours of back breaking work.

Today Kenny comes and that will start the next leg of my trip. I hope to dive into more souffle-like restaurants, outdoor cafes, and cheap wine. Last night we had a 2008 Sancerre - Reserve that was quite quaffable

And remember....enjoy and imbibe.

Ah, Paris

I just got into Paris this morning and the weather is everything springtime in Paris claims to be. A pale sun, longinglyg basks the pale skin of the Parisian people. The breeze is cool with a tease of warmth. Yellow roses in public gardens and red geraniums in window sill pots ostentiously display their finery throughout the city. Raghu's apartment is in the 8th arrondisement. The 138 sq ft apartment is on the top floor. The 6th floor and no elevator. Whoa. The main window faces a courtyard where horses once were tethered. When I look out the window, it is unknown to me what decade, let alone what century I'm observing. I look out at hundreds of chimneys. Copper, Terra cotta, sheet metal, and clay. New and ancient. All different shapes and sizes for as far as the eye can see. All ceremoniously surrounding the nearby black roofed cupola with two glorious windows, and oxidized copper gutters. The filagre below the dome is fringed with leaves, grapes, and flowers. There is a large blank tan stucco wall just begging for a mural or at least the hand of some industrious graffitti artist. A marvelous setting for a grand wine tasting adventure.

Remember enjoy and imbibe.

Ahh....water.

It's officially growing season! The Colorado river is flowing through the veins of the Vinelands. The land is turning from a brown, desolate landscape to a vibrant spring green. The vines are thirsty. Time to water.

But before watering, we need to mow, weedwhack, and hand weed. It's always something. Thank goodness that weed killing chemical I talked about earlier did the trick. Instead of the weeds fighting with the budding vines, their brown fronds are protecting the buds from the cold of night. Nice. All except for two rows. Who knows why I missed those rows? Doing goofy stuff like that makes me think of the movie line from "When Harry Met Sally", "I want what she's having?" Must be some good sh*!. Geez.

Mowing is pretty straight forward except I've got to be careful not to fall into the water creases. I fall into the creases on either side of the grape and I get sucked into the hole making the tractor push into the precious vine. I can get close, but not too close. When that happens, my adrenaline shoots up and I'm in panic mode. Save the vine! Save the vine!

Now I'm weedwhacking those two rows I missed for..... whatever reason. Still don't know. Then manually weeding 95 plants because if I get too close with the weedwhacker, I accidentally chop off three years of my life, the vine. I did give one vine an early demise. Breaks my heart. Okay, now on to the easy part.

Watering. Kenny and I move each of the 25' aluminum pipes in place. I hold them in place for the proper water gate location while Kenny pushes the pipe into the upstream pipe. Then we go open the irrigation gate off of the Colorado river, open our irrigation gate, and adjust the water level in our water vault. Next we walk the first three sections of pipe and open those gates. Giving the vines the life giving liquor needed for everyone's happiness. Then I go back up to the vault and adjust the level ....close gates....open gates...adjust the level.....again. Over and over. Meanwhile keeping an eye on the rows, making sure the water in one crease isn't being deverted to an adjacent row. From the standpoint of exercise, its great.

Walk, walk, walk. Bend, bend, bend. I can hear my personal trainer (if I had one) now "Walk the row, back and forth. Come on, put some heart into it. Now bend down and up, down and up. Really bend! Open those gates, close those gates. Hup to it! Put some effort into it." All this exercise for free.

Now half the vineyard is watered. The vine buds are literally popping open as the water reaches them. They are so happy. The air smells of water soaking into the earth. It's smells like life. Somehow comforting and hopeful.

I believe Spanish Sangria is what calls tonight. Tastes good and it's good for you too. Ole.

Remember enjoy and imbibe.