Tales from the Vineyard

Grape Vine Haircuts

2007-05-17T15:34:00.000-07:00

The vines are progressing. This time of year you can almost see them growing. We are slowly winning the battle against the weeds. Now its time to start shoot thinning. Basically, the new growth is a bit too bushy. So we clean off the stray shoots- kind of give them their first haircut of the season.

Here's a "before and after" shot

Weed Wacker Whoops

2007-05-10T15:25:00.000-07:00

Did you know that you could sever a half inch piece of pvc pipe with a weed wacker? Well somebody can, as my dh, Matthew found out this morning. I was tying up drip irrigation tubing. My brother Tony, was burning weeds with a propane torch while Matthew weed wacked under the vines.
"Uh-oh" says Matthew. "Somebody just cut this pipe right off with the weed wacker. Maybe you should look at this."
I raised an eyebrow at him and mumbled that I'd look at it after I finished my row.
Not more than 2 minutes later, he says, "Oops. Somebody did it again."
Sure enough that somebody had wacked another one. I made a mental note not to turn somebody loose with the propane torch.
No big deal though, Tony had the pipes repaired in no time and Matthew managed to keep somebody clear of any more pipe.

Tractor and the Dance of Successful Repair.

2007-05-09T13:22:00.000-07:00

This week, my husband Matthew, started mowing in the vineyard. Some of the grass had grown past knee-high.
Well, Matthew was nearly finished for the day when he decided to swing the tractor past our tasting patio. He stopped to chat with me for a minute. "How's your day-What's for supper?" that sort of thing. When he turned the key to restart the tractor, smoke started puffing out from under the dash. That is not a good sign. The tractor wouldn't start, so Matthew left it sitting right in front of the tasting patio. Not exactly the most convenient place for it to die, but what are you going do?
The next day, Matthew and I towed the tractor back down to the barn so I could look at it. Matthew worked the tasting patio while I stared at the melted wires that snaked under and through the tractor body. I figured something has shorted and burned up the wire. My powers of observation amaze even me.
I checked the battery, still good and holding a charge. I checked the solenoid/starter. They turned over when jumper-ed from the battery. I checked the safety switches, all good. I even checked the ignition switch, it too was good. So I ended up removing the burnt up main wiring harness and replacing the melted bits. I reinstalled the wiring harness and with a short prayer, I turned the ignition key.
The tractor fired right up. I thanked God. Matthew and the dogs joined me in a rousing "Dance of Successful Repair".

First Post of 2007

2007-05-06T17:45:00.000-07:00

Well I'm ashamed to say it's May and thisis my first post of 2007. I've got all sorts of excuses, but suffice it to say, I will be posting more often in the near future.

Bird Net

2006-09-27T13:07:00.000-07:00

I can’t believe harvest is almost upon us again. I have been putting up bird netting for what seems like an eternity. The vine rows are about 650 ft long and there are 56 of them. While I am have had occasional help from kind people, I have put up the lion’s share of the stuff myself.

This is the first year that we’ve installed bird netting. Last year, we used a shotgun for bird control. (see blog entries from last year) The birds still ate about 2 tons of fruit last year despite my best efforts at blasting them into birdie heaven.

Bird netting comes in various forms. We tried 2 different kinds. One is an extruded, black, fairly stiff netting that comes on rolls that are about 14 feet long. The rolls are sliced into 40 inch segments with a chainsaw. This produces 3 jelly rolls of netting. The netting unfurls as I kick the roll up and down the vineyard rows. It tends to lay neatly flat on the ground . I lay netting on both sides of each trellis. Then I clip the netting onto the trellis via slots notched into the posts. The netting sandwiches the fruiting zone thus deterring the birds from snacking on my harvest. While no picnic, this netting is fairly straightforward to install.

The other kind of netting is a woven, green, stretchy nightmare that comes stuffed hopelessly tangled in large sacks. I have spent days and days unraveling the stuff. Then it doesn’t lay flat. It must be pulled apart like pork and pinned to the trellis every 24 inches or so top and bottom. I have come to really hate this netting. But I am also cash poor enough that I can’t afford to replace it this year. Besides, I hate the idea of something going to waste. I just hope my husband can find a way to salvage and store the green jumbled morass for use next year. HE gets to install it next year.

Bottling Accolade

2006-08-24T12:34:00.000-07:00

So another one of things I’ve been busy with is bottling Accolade.

Accolade is a semi-sparkling Chardonnay that I made for my son’s wedding. Bo and Heather were married in April of 2004. I was so thrilled that they were finally getting married that I decided to make a wine in their honor.

Heather (the future mother of my grandchildren) enjoys prosecco, an Italian style sparkling wine. It is typically fruity with less effervescence than champagne. So completely naïve to the production of sparkling wine, I jumped in with both feet.

I’d like to report that making Accolade was easy, that it was produced with no setbacks or tribulation, with no gnashing of teeth or rending of cloth. It didn’t quite happen that way. Fortunately, it was unique and delicious. Heather loved it; people loved it, so much so that I had to make more.

I approached the new Accolade with cautious optimism. However; if you look back at “Adventures in tank moving” the tank had been bounced since I last made Accolade. As a consequence, the man way door gasket no longer sealed. Of course since the tank is 45 years old, I had a very tough time locating a gasket which would seal the tank. There were several unsuccessful attempts, including one where I epoxied a hand cut Teflon donut looking thing to the inside of the tank doorway. We finally located a company in Wisconsin that was able to fabricate a gasket that sealed successfully.

It is surprising how difficult it is to make 2 wines exactly the same. I talk about how much the weather and winemaker affect the wine, but I didn’t really think it would prove so troublesome to make this Accolade taste like the first one. In fact, they aren’t quite the same. But what can I say-

Anyway, we were finally able to bottle this equally delicious but quirky wine in early August. Accolade is made using the “Metodo Charmat”. Instead of making the bubbles in the bottle, we make them in a large tank via a secondary fermentation. This requires us to bottle Accolade under pressure. The counter pressure filler that I could afford only has 4 spigots. I have a single pneumatic capper. Bottling was not going to be fast. I assembled a team of 5 hard working enthusiastic individuals to help me bottle. We cranked out about 18 cases an hour. The “A” team slaved for 2 ½ lo-o-o-ng days, opening cases of bottles, filling them, capping them and then boxing the now filled bottles back up. The 46 pound cases then all had to be stacked (case by case) in the wine storage bay at the winery. We bottled 416 cases of the new Accolade.

Did I mention that in my spare time, I sprayed the vineyard (finished in the dark) and poured wine at a local golf tournament?

grape puberty

2006-08-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

Its been too long since I’ve written anything-

Not due to lack of stuff happening- actually I’ve been working my little winemaking fingers to the bone. In the last month or so, I barely get a chance to get the basics covered; like eating, sleeping and bathing. And I won’t even talk about laundry.

So the first I’ll give an update on the grapes. The 2006 grapes are starting veraision, although not 50% yet. Veraison (ve-ray-zon):The phase of growth where the grape begins to turn color and the sugar begins to form.

One might ask- but don’t you grow Chardonnay? That’s a white grape, right?

It is indeed a white grape. Actually they look green, but at veraison, the color goes from lime green to a more golden green tone. The skins thin, the grapes soften, and the flavors gain some sweetness; although the grapes are still quite tart yet.

Applegate Uncorked – July 16th 2006

2006-07-11T20:21:00.000-07:00

The wineries of the Oregon Applegate Valley are getting together to put on a behind the scenes look at the wine business from the vine to the glass and everywhere in between. I am presenting a short program on vineyard management- an overview of what we do in the vineyard to coax the best flavors out of the vines.

It should be fun- we’ll lead folks through the vines- show them up close what the vines/grapes look like. We’ll demonstrate leaf pulling and shoot positioning and discuss the effects each have on the end product, their glass of wine. Some folks will get an opportunity to participate by actually working the vines.

I love the touching the plants stuff. I have that farming- digging in the dirt urge. I know not everyone is excited by fruit set or dotes over the grape tendrils. So I hope to be entertaining as well as informative. It’s times like this that I understand what a wine geek I am.

HOT as an oven in the vineyard

2006-06-27T19:49:00.000-07:00

The past several days have been unusually hot. It is the end of June in the Applegate Valley, Oregon. Temperatures are generally warm, like 80’s maybe a few 90’s, heck some years it’s still raining here. This year we got an early spike of 100+ degree days.

It’s dry heat. Not like the humid sauna-like heat of the Midwest. More bearable for the most part; but when the mercury climbs to 110 degrees, I don’t care how dry it is, it’s HOT. Thankfully, today is the beginning of a cooling trend, only 101. We should be in the lower 90’s by the weekend.

Speaking of hot, Southern Oregon wine has been getting some good press lately. There was an article in the Wall Street Journal (http://www.primezone.com/newsroom/news.html?d=101219) (you got to have a membership to read the actual article)

The Rogue valley is featured in AAA’s Via magazine, July/August 2006 edition. (If you check out page 19, you’ll see my smiling mug) Pretty heady stuff for our neck of the woods; but there are many wonderful wines in this region and I’m pleased to be some (albeit small) part of it.

It’s raining paragliders!

2006-06-05T17:10:00.000-07:00

Today it was raining men
and women,
paraglider pilots all.

LongSword Vineyard is nestled in the Applegate Valley just west of Woodrat Mountain. Woodrat Mountain happens to be the launch site of The Starthistle Fly-in, an annual hang glider/paraglider fly-in that happens Memorial Day weekend.
See http://www.rvhpa.net/starthistle2006/index.htm for information and pictures. It is also the site of one of the largest sanctioned paragliding competitions in the US, the Rat Race See http://www.ratracecomp.com/index.php for information and pictures.

A month or so ago, Paul Murdock (http://www.garywest.com/where.htm) landed in the field by the tasting patio. One of the more unusual business meetings I’ve had. Paul asked me if LongSword Vineyard would allow paragliders to land here during the Starthistle Fly-in this year. How could I say no to a guy who just dropped in out of the sky? Besides, it sounded like fun, so I said “sure!”

So Memorial Day weekend arrived along with rain showers. Saturday rained out. Sunday, some pilots got to fly in the afternoon. Monday morning was noticeably clearer. The task for the day was for the pilots to land at LongSword Vineyard. What a treat for the customers lucky enough to have happened upon my vineyard that day. Brightly colored “wings” soared in waves. Riding the thermals, bright yellows, blues and orange paragliders whirled into colorful cyclones over Woodrat Mountain. Over 100 pilots in the skies at the same time! Shortly after 2pm the first pilot floated down into the field next to the patio. I greeted him with a glass of wine. Over the next 3 hours, over 30 pilots landed in the field. I offered a glass of wine to each pilot. One fellow shouted “A glass of red, please” as he barely skimmed the top of the arbor. Most landings were graceful. The pilots just stepped out of the air like they were stepping out of a carriage. Some were less so; another pilot breached the birch trees as he careened into the field. Neither tree nor pilot was harmed in the process; we cheered them all.

What struck me most was the ear to ear grin on each pilot’s face as he or she walked over to the patio. They positively glowed. Those of us on the patio were captivated by the aura of excitement. Next year, I want to fly into my vineyard!

Back to square one

2006-05-29T19:36:00.000-07:00

Well now the rest of the sheep saga.

The next morning, I drove over to my neighbor’s place to help him catch the sheep. I was like a kid going to pick out a new puppy. I thought we’d walk up to the sheep and I would pick out a couple of cute ones. Then I imagined we’d hoist them into the back of my pickup and deliver them to their new home, the sheep ark. They would blissfully browse between the vine rows manicuring the grass down to an even golf course like turf.

I really didn’t know much of anything about sheep.

First of all, sheep are not naturally docile. My neighbor just runs them from one pasture to another every once in awhile. So they are not accustomed to human contact. In order to catch the sheep, we do our best sheepdog imitations and try to herd these very quick sheep into a small pen from a larger pasture. The sheep are not cooperating with our efforts. After about 30 minutes of chasing sheep, we finally manage to divert one into the pen. The rest follow like…, well like sheep.

It is becoming clear to me that these sheep might not be as easy as I had imagined. So I pick out the shortest ewe and her twins. My neighbor lassoed the ewe and tied her to the wall of the pen. Her twins will not leave her. They huddle behind her. I grabbed one of the twins by the back leg. She struggles mightily for such a little critter. I managed to pick her up by her legs although she gets in a kick to my cheek before I roll her into the back of the pick up. As I am putting the other lamb into the pickup, she almost makes a break for it, twisting herself out of the pick up. Luckily I snag a rear leg before she hits the ground. Momma gave my neighbor more of a wrestling match than he cared for. He was breathless by the time we clapped the canopy door shut.

When we arrive at the vineyard, my neighbor very tactfully suggests that the pen I’ve built might need “a little reinforcing”. He stays for the next three hours “reinforcing” the pen. I try to be helpful and hand him tools and the like. He tells me that this pen will likely make a very good chicken ark. This is foreshadowing. Another wrestling match ensues before the momma and her twins are stashed in the sheep ark.

My neighbor suggested the purchase of some sweet grain to placate the sheep.

Sweet grain was not enough. The momma repeatedly rammed herself against the sides of the now fortress-like sheep ark. She would not eat; instead she would pace around nervously or stand poised to flee terrified at the sight of me. Of course she could only get to the other side of the pen and flail against the wire fencing.

By the next day, the babies were eating cautiously. Momma stood watch. Soon I realized these babies were capable of eating the grass inside the ark down in a matter of hours. Still Momma wasn’t eating, but if she were, the sheep ark would have to be moved several times a day to keep up with these sheep that had become an anxious eating machine. Maybe the ark needed to be longer.

Day three I needed to spray sulfur on the grapevines. Sulfur prevents powdery mildew, the bane of southern Oregon vineyards. The ark is difficult to move by my power so I hitched the sheep ark to the tractor and pulled them ever so slowly out of range of the sulfur. It was here that I realized that if I made the ark longer, it would be too long to negotiate the turn at the end of the vine row.

And the sheep were so unhappy. Momma looked like she was losing weight already. Sadly, I came to accept that the sheep ark idea, while nice on paper, was not working. So I called my neighbor and humbly asked if I could return the poor traumatized sheep back to their flock. Momma and her twins returned home the next morning.

Sustainable vineyard

2006-05-12T15:42:00.000-07:00

First steps with sheep

Back in ’99 when Matt and I were researching the whole vineyard/winery thing, we visited the Burgundy region in France. It was poetic, beautiful; each vineyard charmed me completely. In one vineyard, there were little short black sheep eating the flora between the vine rows. They were adorable. Since then, I’ve pictured short little sheep grazing among the vines.

I grew up on the Westside of Indianapolis, hardly country living. So I don’t know anything about raising sheep. But then I didn’t know anything about growing grapes either. I figure I can learn. The whole idea sounds great. The sheep keep the vineyard mowed. They spread a little fertilizer while they are at it. Besides, the sheep are so darn cute.

Fast forward to late April this year. There is a farm down the road from me that has sheep. I have passed them many times as I traveled into town. Well, a gentleman stopped by the vineyard one afternoon to ask me about growing grapes. He was wondering about whether his property would be a good vineyard candidate. As we got to talking, he mentioned that he had the farm up the road with the sheep. My ears pricked up. I asked him about the sheep in the vineyard idea. He felt the sheep would eat the tender grape shoots.

Now, I’ve thought of that. There are things called ‘chicken tractors’ or ‘chicken arks’ that are mobile, floorless pens. The chickens are confined from desired plantings, but can eat the bugs and weeds. When they finish with one area, one moves them to the next patch of bugs and weeds. So the gentleman and I discuss using this same idea for the sheep. He thinks it just may work. I agree to construct a ‘sheep ark’, he agrees to let me test run some sheep.

So a week or so later, I decide to construct a ‘sheep ark’. I have lots of old trellis posts, hog wire and plywood scraps. There are a number of websites that show chicken arks of many designs. I am not a carpenter. But I figure I can pattern after some pictures and cobble something mobile that will hold sheep. Five hours later, I’m not a quick carpenter; a 7’x10’ pen has materialized. I put 2 wheels on one end so that the entire contraption can be moved like a wheel barrel.

So I call the gentleman up the road to say that I’m ready for sheep trials. We agreed to meet the next morning to catch a momma and baby.

Frosty Mornings

2006-05-06T16:55:00.000-07:00

Frosty mornings

Here in southern Oregon, the weather has turned from rainy to clear skies and sunshine. The grape buds have burst and are growing quickly. They already have shoots about 4” long. With the clear skies comes danger of frost damage to the tender shoots. This time of year, despite daytime highs in the 70’s, nighttime lows can easily dip into the 30’s.

And so it has. Three nights in a row, I’ve been awakened by the ‘beep-beep-beep’ of my temperature alarm. I set it at 34 degrees so if there will be frost, I’ll have time to pull on my boots and hurry down to the river. There I start up the 65 hp pump which feeds the overhead sprinklers in the vineyard.

It seems counter-intuitive, but to prevent frost damage, one puts water on the vines so that ice will form on them. As it turns out, a small amount of heat is released by the water as it becomes ice. The plant absorbs this heat. So the plant stays at or close to 32 degrees while the temperature outside the ice gets colder. This buys you 4 or 5 degrees of protection. If it drops lower than that, there will likely be crispy leaves in the morning.

So far (I say this with fingers crossed) the lowest temperature has been 29 degrees. When the sun comes up over the hills, the valley warms ups nicely. Afternoon temperatures have been in the upper 70’s. Spring is here.

Back in the Vineyard

2006-04-11T20:28:00.000-07:00

I have returned to the vineyard after 4 months in Indianapolis. My husband lives there. So while the grapes are getting their winter’s nap, we get to live in the same state.

Matt (my life and business partner) and I began the 2400 mile drive on Friday, March 31st around 3pm. We managed to get to the “world’s largest truck stop” in Iowa along I-80. We missed tornados and thunderstorms that struck central Indiana by a few hours.

The next day’s drive through Nebraska was uncharacteristically entertaining. Usually this section of the drive, 450 miles of flat featureless farmland, is only punctuated by the piques aroma of very large feed lots. But this year, we managed to drive through central Nebraska during the crane migration. I didn’t know cranes migrated at all. There is no telling why cranes would stop over in Nebraska but they do, by the hundreds. Cranes among last year’s corn stubble, cranes on the sandbars in the shallow Platte River, with their long necks, soft grey bodies and skinny orange legs all converging on the “Cornhusker State” in early April.

Matt and I finished the day in Laramie, Wyoming. Wyoming has striking landscape, really beautiful snow covered mountains; however, the towns themselves all look weather beaten and barren. The near constant wind just adds to the feeling of inhospitality. Many of the dwellings in Wyoming towns are trailers that seem to be just parked together haphazardly. It is also home to the worst coffee along I-80 from Indianapolis to Winnemucca. Apparently the concept of fresh coffee grounds are lost on the good people of the “Equality State” as they just keep brewing the same old coffee grounds over and over again.

From Laramie, Matt and I journeyed on. Every trip across the country we try to see something different. This year we took a quick detour through the Flaming Gorge area. I would like to return there and rent a houseboat for a week or so. The area is lovely but likely best seen from the reservoir.

Due to our little hike in the Gorge, we only made Elko, Nevada by nightfall. that night was the opening of the Major League Soccer season. We desperately searched for a hotel that first of all had ESPN2 and secondly took pets (fred, the brave and courageous vineyard dog, accompanies us). We found a Ramada Inn that fit the bill, only to discover that the cable feed had been interrupted by some freak cosmic event. I was devastated. We ordered pizza and glumly stared at the blank screen. Then Providence smiled on us; the soccer game flashed on the TV; ESPN2 restored just as the game commenced. I am humbled by the blessings bestowed on me by my God.

Our final leg of the journey took us north from Winnemucca along 140 from northern Nevada through eastern Oregon. This is a beautiful but desolate stretch, mostly populated by wild burros. As we approached Lakeview, Oregon, the road was hijacked by a herd of cattle being driven right down the road by two cowboys on horseback and a very energetic border collie. Bessie, her sisters and their calves, all plodded down the highway in no particular hurry. I felt like we were watching an old western movie. Head ‘em up and move ‘em out! The cowboys even wore cowboy hats and bandanas.

We arrived at the vineyard in the late afternoon. I called ahead to Auntie Pasta’s in Ruch to see if they’d stay open to feed us since we had no food in the LOL (the rv I live in at the vineyard) Carol graciously prepared a delicious pizza for us. We dined in style and toasted to another safe and successful trek to the vineyard.

Adventures in Tank moving

2005-10-29T14:07:00.000-07:00

My mother said there’d be days like this…

One of my wines, Accolade, is a sparkling Chardonnay. I originally made this wine in 2003 for my son’s wedding. Bo and Heather married in April of 2004. I didn’t make the wine in 2004 because no one was getting married. However, the wine has been popular and so I decided to make it again this year despite the lack of wedding bells.

We also moved our custom crush operation to Wooldridge Creek winery this year. Wooldridge Creek is also located in the Applegate valley, so our whole operation is closer to the vineyard. The barrels and laboratory equipment have already been moved. None of that posed any special difficulties. The only really tricky move left involved the jacketed, 5000 liter, pressure tank that we used to make Accolade. The tank is about 6 feet in diameter. It is about 10 feet tall and while empty it weighs in at around 3000 pounds. There are fittings, gauges and piping on this tank which could be damaged if the tank were laid on its side. The plan was to hire some piece of machinery to lift the tank and set it upright onto a truck. The truck would transport the tank to it new home at Wooldridge Creek winery. The piece of machinery would then set the tank onto its newly poured concrete pad.

The first hitch was that the tank being 10 feet tall could not be transported on just any old flatbed truck. Most flatbeds are about 4 feet off the ground. Special permits are required to transport something over 14 feet high. Power lines and overpasses can be about 14 feet off the ground. So a special “lowboy” trailer must be used. Next the machinery to lift said tank needs to be capable of lifting the 3000 or so pounds, as well as being transportable to the new location. It also has to be available when the “lowboy” was available. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to hire both the crane and the truck from the same company. After a couple of weeks of scheduling conflicts and delays, we finally had both crane and truck available at the same time.

During the preceding weeks, the weather out here in the Applegate valley had been dry. The night before the bit tank move, it stormed. The sound of rain and wind pelting the roof of my LOL (the lap o’ luxury RV I call home) kept me up all night. Nonetheless, I was up before sunrise that morning. No time for coffee, I sped through the morning mist to RoxyAnn winery where I met both the truck driver and crane operator. The truck pulled into the orchard behind the white cinder block winery building while the crane operator surveyed the situation.

The crane is very heavy. It weighs in at 62000 pounds. The overnight precipitation had left the ground soggy. To complicate matters more, there are several underground water lines bisecting the space next to the pressure tank. The trenches that held the water lines had been backfilled. We found out quickly that ground wasn’t very solid. The crane’s stabilizing “feet” sunk into the mud as the crane attempted to lift the tank. We tried shoring up the feet with 4x4’s and even a sheet of metal. Finally, we cut loose the tank and moved the crane to firmer ground further away from the tank.

You can’t really fudge with physics. The tank jacket was supposed to have been drained. As a matter of safety, we felt that transporting the tank without 1000 or so pounds of sloshing liquid in it would be safer. Although we had spoken about this on several occasions, somehow the glycol was never drained from the tank jacket. Neither was I informed of this. So instead of weighing about 3000 pounds (as I had told the crane operator) the tank actually weighed about 4500 pounds. The crane can lift a certain amount of weight at a particular height and angle of the boom. There is some wiggle room but not 1500 pounds worth of wiggle. As the crane picked up the tank, the tank legs didn’t lift with the rest of it. Next the crane begins to tip. There is a delicate moment of balance after which there is no return. Either the crane and tank would topple or the tank bounces alone. So the operator did what he had to do to prevent the impending disaster. He dropped the tank.

The truck driver and I were standing in close proximity of the tank. One might wonder what goes through a mind when 4500 pounds of iron careens out of control. Well I can’t tell you; as I recall no conscious thought whatever. I seemed to immediately teleport about 20 feet way. So did the truck driver. Other witnesses attest that as the crane came off the ground, the crane operator’s eyes became as large as saucers. Impressively, he maintained bowel control.

In the subsequent moments, there was rending of cloth, gnashing of teeth and a little cursing. Some stainless steel piping was crushed and the bottom insulation shredded. Other than that, the integrity of tank and its jacket appeared to be intact. The good news is that no one was harmed. The damage could have been much worse. If the tank had swung south instead of north, the winery building could have been damaged (think wrecking ball). I don’t like to even consider what would have happened if the crane had tipped over.

The rest of story involved slow careful movement of the tank onto the truck. The truck rolled the winding road to the winery where the tank was uneventfully placed onto the awaiting cement pad.

My mother told me there’d be days like this.

We have harvest

2005-10-17T13:57:00.000-07:00

We have harvest!

In the wee hours of our first harvest day, there was a sprinkling of rain. 7 am, the sky was overcast. I could hear strains of Latin inspired music from car radios of the picking crew as they pulled in next to the barn. Fred, the wonder dog, peered nervously out the RV window (the lap of luxury or LOL, pun intended). I pulled on my hat and gulped down my coffee. Harvest had begun.

This year’s crew is mostly familiar faces. Many have been working harvest here since we bought the vineyard in 1999. The crew members are nearly all related by blood or marriage to each other. Most live here year round. As a group, they are fast, efficient and experienced pickers. Their friendly chatter is soon drowned out by tractor engines.

Fifteen pickers, two tractors and about seventy five buckets head toward the east end of the vineyard. I drive my little red tractor. Behind which I tow a short trailer with two fruit bins. It’s loud; Yanmars are nicknamed “Yanmar Hammer” because the 25 horse power diesel engines sound like jackhammers. Dennis drives his big green and yellow John Deere. It has front forks which carry one fruit bin.

The pickers start out ahead of us. Four or five to a vine row, they space the 5 gallon buckets under the vines so they can fill a bucket and keep right on picking into the next bucket. The tractors troll up and down the rows to collect grapes into the wooden fruit bins. As soon as a bucket is emptied into the bin, it is whisked off to another vine to be refilled. The picker receives a ticket for each bucket picked. The going rate this year is 90 cents a bucket. We harvest until about 11am. By then it’s getting hot. Fifteen pickers, two tractors and the buckets return to the barn. Once in the barn, everyone sets off by themselves to count their tickets and drink a coke.

Since we will pick more fruit, the grapes are shuttled into the barn. We want to keep the sun off the grapes until tomorrow when all the fruit will travel to the wineries. On day one, we have filled 22 fruit bins. Each bin holds in the range of 1000 -1200 lbs. of grapes. That works out to approximately 11 tons of Chardonnay.

I wake to Mexican music. Ice on my window tells me that dawn would reveal frost in the vineyard. It’s quite a bit colder than the previous morning. Fourteen pickers, two tractors and about seventy buckets troop back to the vineyard. When we finish about 3 ½ hours later, 22 more bins are full.

The grapes are going to three different wineries. Grapes for LongSword wine are loaded onto the smaller flatbed truck. They are first to leave. The balance of the grapes is headed up north on a 40 foot flatbed trailer. Stacking these fruit bins is a tricky business in itself. Further complicating the task is the fact that this flatbed is taller than the other. The tractor’s forks can only lift one bin at a time. The bins must be stacked two high in order to get them all on the truck. Fully extended the forks lift the top bin about 6 inches short of clearing the bottom bin. So several frantic phone calls later, a taller forklift is on its way.

All and all, harvest went smoothly. I’ve stopped shooting at the birds but they are singing the blues anyway. No more free lunch.

Harvest 2005

2005-10-10T17:56:00.000-07:00

Well, tomorrow is harvest...

The culmination of a year's toil, sweat and sometimes tears (depending on the weather) comes down to these next two days.

This year, winter was relatively warm and dry. There was talk of drought. Thankfully, it began to rain in April. Problem was; it kept raining all through June. So a wet, cool spring delayed fruit set about a month.

Late fruit set is not really a problem as long as there is sufficient heat in the summer and a generous Indian summer. The heat came in July, intense but short lived. September brought more rain and cool weather. Nature relented and blessed us with a couple weeks of warmer weather. But by this time harvest was late. The birds, perhaps sensing a difficult winter, gathered impressive numbers. The feeding frenzy began.

I don't like to shoot at birds. I'm not a hunter; I grow wine grapes. More than that, I sincerely feel remorse at each bird that I kill. My comfort is that I am a poor shot. Most of the birds are merely startled rather than dead when my rifle sounds. That said; a dead bird eats less than a traumatized one.

To set the record straight, I see nothing wrong with hunting for food. I eat meat. I don’t kill these birds to eat them. Rather, I kill them to prevent them from eating my livelihood. I still don’t like killing them. Well, except for crows. There are some of God’s creatures that I just find detestable. Flies, mosquitoes and crows, I gleefully slaughter those. Starlings too, I must confess; they’re just rats with wings.

I suffer physically for this skirmish too. The large purple bruises on my shoulder attest to my aggressive pursuit of the gluttonous birds. I’ll be grateful when the crop is safely on its way to the winery and I can stop firing that 12 gauge. My neighbors, as well as the surviving birds, are welcome to any grapes missed during picking.

Find LongSword Vineyard

2005-09-29T14:13:00.000-07:00

LongSword Vineyard is located about 8 miles west of Jacksonville, OR on highway 238. Pretty easy to find really.

From I5 take exit 40 and follow the signs to Jacksonville. Once you are in Jacksonville, you continue on highway 238 west out of town. The vineyard is located about a mile west of Ruch on the south side of the road. Look for the yellow “WINE TASTING” signs.

Ruch is a quiet, not quite quaint hamlet in the Applegate Valley. Ruch consists of 2 restaurants, a grocery, a library and several other businesses. There isn’t any stop sign, so don’t blink.

LongSword Vineyard includes 10 acres of Chardonnay vines, an alfalfa field and of course, The Tasting Patio. The Tasting Patio sits on the northwest corner of the property. A barn red pump house is close to road (next to the cleanest Port-a-Potty in Oregon). Directly next to the pump house is the office, a charcoal grey hut where the wine is. Next to the office is the deck and fieldstone patio. A hand hewn fir arbor shades the deck and patio areas. Several round tables complete with tablecloths and ‘springy’ wrought iron chairs wait for visitors to take in the stunning view and taste our delicious wines.

Fred –vineyard dog

2005-09-28T14:59:00.000-07:00

Fred, the brave and courageous, has called us his pack for nearly his entire life. As a pup, barely weaned, he found Melinda, my daughter in a near eastside park in Indianapolis. It was early fall in 1987. I was playing tackle football with a group of friends. I love sports and at that time was still quick enough to get around the really big girls.

Melinda was off playing with the other kids. She returned with a litter of puppies in tow. Now she was always bringing home animals especially baby animals. Melinda has an innate gentleness about her that is palatable. Hence, baby animals, especially those who are lost or injured, will approach her. So according to Melinda, Fred trotted up to her and told her that he was the greatest dog in the world and presumably that he, along with his brother and sisters, should go home with her. So that’s how Fred adopted us as his pack. At the time, the pack was me, my brother Tony, a roommate Debby, my children Bo and Melinda and two other dogs, Poo Bear and Max. I found homes for Fred’s siblings, but Fred remained.

Melinda wanted to name Fred- honey- although he was technically tri-colored- he had only a tiny white blaze on his chest and the beginnings of a black saddle- Fred was mostly a dark honey colored medium coated mutt. Bo on the other hand, wanted to call Fred- Freddy Kruger after a horror movie killer. Neither child would compromise, so I christened him ‘Freddy honey’.

Fred spent his early years in the backyard of our suburban home. He mostly stood on top of his doghouse and barked. He barked at things that moved and those that didn’t. My brother Tony nicknamed Fred, ‘barker of great annoyance’. Melinda and Fred spent much time together. She liked to dress him in doll clothes. Fred was comfortable with his sexuality so he didn’t mind too much. He liked to play tea party as long as cookies were involved.

Once Melinda asked Fred to watch her sandwich for her while she went into the house to fetch her juice. Melinda was concerned that her brother, Bo, would steal a bite of the sandwich. Worse yet, he might just lick it and not tell her till after she took a bite. Melinda was quite disappointed to find Fred swallowing the remnants of her sandwich as she stepped through the kitchen door. That day, she learned not to ask a dog to watch your food for you.

Some years later, Melinda was sunbathing in the backyard. She had just turned on the radio, smoothed on the suntan lotion and was preparing to take that first bite of her sandwich. Out of the blue, a honey colored blur flew in from the east, snatched the sandwich right from her unsuspecting hand and disappeared into the west! After that, Melinda was ever vigilant when Fred and food were in the same vicinity.

2005-09-22T14:11:00.000-07:00

Maria in the Vineyard

Good morning

2005-09-22T11:50:00.000-07:00

I am starting this log to chat and talk about vines and wine.