A Trellis for One

This Saturday was the two-year anniversary of the planting of the grapevine in my backyard, a day I remember fondly, not unlike the birth of a child.  As if to mark its birthday, the vine celebrated the occasion by bursting out of its swelling buds and announcing the arrival of the season's first grape leaves.  This happy occasion launched a series of activities to prepare for the year’s growing season. 

First, I finally ended my two-year procrastination and built my toddler a proper home.  The three-wire trellis system I decided to install mimics the similar version I built for the Hilton vines, but with the weight of only one vine to support instead of six, both the wire and stakes could be less bulky.

As promised, I also gave the vine its very first bath in fungicide, vowing to keep black rot from germinating here as it did at my sister’s house. 

At day’s end, I was feeling quite positive about the appearance of my “vineyard.”  With a population of one, it is by definition the world’s smallest vineyard, I admit.  But given that I can admire it through the window while seated at my dining room table, it puts a smile on my face nonetheless.  For today at least, I’m a proud papa indeed.

A Two Front War

I know it’s Earth Day this Friday, but Mother Nature and I are not having a very good week.  Since my last post a week ago, I have killed two mice in my garage, and I’m sure that number will continue to rise. 

Meanwhile, the buds on my vines are just beginning to swell, as the long winter’s hibernation finally comes to an end.  Few things bring greater joy to the vine grower than the first sign of life in the vineyard on a warm Spring day.  And few things will elicit a greater desire to kill than discovering half a dozen beetles eating your buds right before your eyes.  The photo here shows a beautiful Corot Noir bud days before bursting, and a giant hole on the right where one of these blue beasts procured his lunch. 

Dead bug walking.

And thus I find myself in a two front war against nature.  Yesterday I applied insecticide to my vines for the first time, a process that caused months of consternation, hours of preparation, and seconds of application.  The few beetles I managed to catch I crushed in between my fingers, hoping to teach a lesson to his brothers that managed to flee.  I didn’t ask for this fight, but I promise you I won’t back down from it. 

Happy Earth Day everyone!

Mouse Attack

A few months ago it became apparent to Kim and I that we had a mouse problem in our garage.  What tipped us off was the fact that they were running under our feet every time we opened the garage door.  Not really, but by the mess they made it felt like it sometimes.  After procuring two mouse traps for a total of 50 cents, I caught 8 or 9 of those suckers within a month, and things seemed back to normal. 

Until this weekend that is, when I opened my winemaking supply cabinet and found mouse droppings in one of the drawers.  I have half a dozen or so different additives in plastic pouches, and this mouse had managed to chew through and destroy several different yeast nutrient products, while having the innate sense to avoid eating the 50 grams of granulated acid right next to them.   I cleaned the mess up, put several of the products in glass jars and tried to remain calm.  And then the little bastard came back the next day.

So now it’s on.  I’ve strategically positioned my traps around the cabinet, am checking it on a semi-hourly basis, and am comfortable in making the following declarative statement:  I’m gonna kill that mouse.  And then I’m gonna kill its brothers and sisters.  If I haven’t already killed its mom and dad, I’m gonna kill them too.

While I was setting the traps, 5-year old Macy came out to ask what I was doing, and I had no choice but to tell the truth.  “Neat,” she said, “can you come put on the Mickey Mouse Show for me?”  How lovely it must be to live in an uncomplicated world, where you can both kill and adore a mouse all in the same day without a hint of irony. 

My wine is aging safely in the basement, and I’m trying not to hold the whole thing against Mickey, but believe me when I tell you, I’m gonna kill that mouse.

Maturing with Age

Yesterday was my 38^th birthday, and like many of you, I’m sure, I spent it racking 8 gallons of Russian River Pinot Noir.  Apart from one final racking in the Summer, my 2010 Chardonnay and Pinot are now ready for bottling in the Fall. 

Despite the fact that I keep this blog, believe me when I tell you I’m really not that keen on social media.  I find it a little overwhelming.  Nonetheless, I did enjoy receiving the bevy of texts, wall posts and direct messages from friends old and new wishing me a happy birthday.  Many of these notes were from people who would have been unlikely to have known my birthday back when we used to see each other on a daily basis.  Pretty amazing.

Coolest of all, though, was the gift I got from Kim.  She found a “wine camp” in Long Island that offers a 4-day wine emersion where activities include food and wine pairings, winery tours, hands on work in the vineyard, wine blending, working with the winemakers, and drinking a whole lot of wine.  Not sure when we’re going to go, but I’m pretty sure it will be hard for me to sleep the week before.  Anybody want to come along?