A vineyard is a magical thing. Many winemakers we have chatted with over the years have said how much they love their time among the vines. No computers, no ringing phones, no paperwork, no delivery trucks, no forklifts … just the fundamental growing things that yield all that beautiful wine.
Every season offers magical vineyard moments. In the winter, the snip of pruning sheers is sometimes the only sound in the quiet and the cold of the vineyard. You can almost feel the vines sleeping.
Spring arrives fast or slow, depending on the year, and with it come flocks of birds chirping through the rows and new shoots on the vine. There is something delightful and hopeful about the first green leaves showing through the dark wood of winter. It’s a re-birth of the vine and a promise for the wine.
Mother Nature is lazy and luxurious in summertime’s vineyard. Oh, she’s still working to ripen the grapes, but life is lush in summer. Breezes rustle the leaves and their gentle whisper mingles with the calls of songbirds that feast on insects burrowing in the cover crops. Workers hurry to cut away excess vine growth, or canopy, so that the fruit will have the sunshine it needs to mature.
And then, there is harvest. The grapes are heavy on the vines, ready for picking. In every vineyard and every block, there is a perfect moment for harvest. An expectant stillness is in the air. Then, the pickers arrive, quickly and skillfully cutting off the clusters. Harvest is electric energy; there’s nothing quite like it.
Uncorking memories–Which wine were you drinking when….?”
We know that James Bond had a memorable, wine-related moment in Goldfinger (1964) when he ordered a bottle of 1947 Mouton Rothschild. The fact that the “sommelier” didn’t know the wine came from Bordeaux tipped Bond off to his actual identity as a spy.
We don’t have any memorable wine moments that nearly measure up to that. How about you?
We do remember pouring a Joseph Phelps “Insignia” with a couple of friends who had made dinner for us. And we all still talk about it.
We do remember a lunch in Venice with an old friend in a bustling, cheery bistro steps from the canal. She had an ethereal pumpkin lasagna, and we had a glass of chill, crisp, flowery white wine that was simply the best white we’d ever had. Name unknown.
And you? Any wine memories related to romance or family, life milestones, incredible trips?