It’s magical. In order to protect the young vines, three guys take these: And transform our vineyard of sticks into this: A combination of steel t-posts, bamboo stakes and milk cartons. It seems someone’s been drinking ridiculous amounts of milk in preparation for this day. Fifty-one thousand half gallons to be precise. They’re very full.
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All 51,000 vines planted and accounted for. Don’t they look lush. We are officially exhausted and taking a day off for the first time since we arrived almost two months ago. We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled postings come Monday. In the meantime, we’re going to put our feet up, consume mass quantities of
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Watching 51,000 vines get planted is hard work.
This week I’m watching my dad’s dream become a reality. Four years of countless hours spent investigating and strategizing, creating spreadsheets and tweaking projections, discovering new wines and meeting delightful grape enthusiasts: today the dream is fulfilled. It’s a rather powerful thing to behold, this beginning. Something like a wedding–a long-term commitment, lots of laughter
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Amazing process. Amazing people. More pictures to come.
The poles are harbingers of the current that is to come. We are just a few short days away from having electricity on the property. Insert hallelujah chorus here. Now all we need is an outhouse and we’ll feel almost civilized.
I’ve been reading The Dirty Life, a memoir of another couple’s farming adventures. Hands down, it’s wonderful and highly recommended, but one line in particular arrested me today. “It’s never the way you think it’ll be [this farming life], . . . Not as perfect as you hope or as scary as you fear.”
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