Vendemmia: 2020.

I spent a lot of yesterday pulling leaves in the Pinot grigio (PG) block, as harvest was scheduled for today.  It was still dark at 6.30 a.m., a bit too dark to harvest (due to marine fog mixed with wildfire smoke), so I had to time to eat breakfast before the morning's viticultural-proceedings began.  The Orange muscat grapes were also picked.  I love the feeling of being up early for harvest, I find it exciting.

Fruit looks fantastic, tastes great.  Perhaps a little less than last year (according to Vinomaker), not surprising seeing as my hungry hens have been helping themselves to the ripening berries for weeks now.  Sugar came in at 26 °Brix - a little high, but one would expect a spike in sugar due to the 107/108 °F temps we had on Sunday and Monday.  

My job is done.  Now it's up to Vinomaker to work his magic.

Overjoyed.

Whilst working in the Pinot grigio (PG) this morning, stuffing shoots, I looked down and found an old earring of mine.  Why I looked down I do not know.  Stuffing shoots is definitely looking up through the canopy sort of work.  I am overjoyed to say the least.
I'd given up all hope of finding this earring.  I was fairly sure that it had dropped out whilst I was leaf-pulling in the PG block (almost 2 years ago).  But I had been in a vineyard that was being developed/ripped that day also, so when I noticed my earring was missing I wasn't 100% sure exactly where it had vacated my earlobe.  I looked along the rows a million times.  I contemplated buying a metal detector.  I decided the earring was a lost cause, I despaired.  They were very special earrings: Thud had bought them for me one Christmas and I wore them at my wedding to Vinomaker.  I was devastated.
Two weeks ago, I spent a whole week hoeing/hand weeding the PG block, so I had cleared a fair bit of real estate under the vines.  Didn't see a thing.  Then today, purely by chance, eureka!  None the worse for wear, just covered in Coombsville clay, I am really surprised that my filigree hoop hadn't been squashed by a tractor.  Vinomaker reckons the chickens unearthed my earring (the girls are wherever I am in the vineyard, I'm sure they think I'm the best chicken-scratcher out there).  But methinks my new guardian angel had something to do with me striking gold in the vineyard.  Thanks, mum!

CS: Veraison, 2019.

Always bringing up the rear, Vinoland's Cabernet sauvignon has deemed it the right time to begin to start the process of veraison.  Clone 4, as I may have mentioned before, was not the best clonal selection to make for a Coombsville vineyard.  It is so cool here, compared to other Napa Valley AVAs, that it is a struggle to get these darned grapes ripe every year.  Takes quite a bit of extra work with canopy management etc., but we always get there, together, in the end.  Well, we'll see what sort of ripeness this year brings.

One year later.

This morning, as the sun rose from behind Napa's eastern hills, I was greeted with the same charred vista that has greeted me for the past 364 days.  A year after the fires that ravaged Wine Country, what was once a solid ridge line of trees and vegetation across from Vinoland is still a blackened, skeletal-shadow of the verdant skyline it once was.  The ridge will eventually green-up again, it is just going to take a while.   

Drip, drip, drip.

Napa Sanitation District's recycled water is finally dripping in Vinoland.  Today was the first time the grapevines have been irrigated this growing season.  Well, I think the vines got watered, the wind was so brisk that it was blowing the water dripping from the emitters sideways.
The amount of water the vines get, and the frequency of watering, depends on a number of different factors; soil type, climate, topography, grape variety, cover cropping, cultural practices, etc.  In California's vineyards it is only the water that is held in the soil that is available to grapevines, any rare rainfall during the growing season is lost to surface evaporation, runoff, or used up by cover crops and weeds.  Now, for the first time, due to the abundance of recycled water available, all the vines could be watered at once (instead of block by block).
I will be keeping a close eye on the vines for any sign that they don't like their new source of sustenance as there has been some conflicting data over the salinity of the recycled water.  Grapevines are more tolerant to salt than other fruit crops, but I'm not interested in performing my own mini-experiment.  If there is the slightest hint of a problem, the plug will be pulled and it'll be back to well water for Vinoland's vines.

What a grey May.

Today, I did a Google search on how to spell the sound one makes when blowing a raspberry, as I hadn't the foggiest.  Luckily, others before me had seemingly pondered the same complex, philosophical question and so I learnt that a cartoonist, Berkeley Breathed (Bloom County), had spelled it thus, "PPTHHPTHPFFTHPPPT."  It doesn't sound quite wet enough, if you ask me, but for wont of a better spelling it is the spelling that I am going to adopt on my blog when I need to convey my especial distaste for something.  So here goes: PPTHHPTHPFFTHPPPT! to the month of May.
I had predicted, earlier in the year, that it was probably going to be a rather short winter.  I was wrong, very wrong, it still feels like winter.  It's been a cool and grey spring.  It has been unusually windy for about three weeks now and this past week the temps have been down in the low 60s.  Then, today, it rained.  Sigh.
However, despite the coolness, we finally have bloom in Vinoland.  I'd guesstimate that the Pinot grigio vines are almost two weeks behind their average bloom date.  Not that Mother Nature works on any particular viticultural-schedule, bloom-time is different every year, but the vines do seem to be particularly tardy this year.  Once again,  PPTHHPTHPFFTHPPPT!!!

The show must go on.

Wildfires be damned!  Vinoland's Cabernet Sauvignon (CS) needed to be harvested, but Mother Nature seemed to have other ideas.  Vinomaker and I had planned to harvest our CS this past Friday, the 13th, problem was most of our usual picking crew were unavailable due to voluntary or mandatory evacuations.
Grateful that Vinomaker and I had kept an eye on the neighbourhood in their abscence, many of our neighbours kindly offered to help us harvest (we couldn't have managed it by ourselves).  Our pleasant group of pickers showed up early and prepared to get the crop off the vines.  I had spent the day before pulling leaves, so the fruit was exposed and the pick went smoothly.  Although it was still very smoky nobody complained.
This evening, our cheery little band of harvesters reconvened on Vinoland's deck for a celebratory repast of pizza, beer and, of course, wine.  Happy end of harvest 2017.  Finally!

Fire and water.

My grandmother was oft heard quoting Aesop, "...fire and water, they are good servants but bad masters."  Even as a small child I got the gist of what she was saying.  However, growing up in Liverpool, I didn't think I was in imminent danger of burning up, or being washed away.  Fire is mostly great; a cozy wood burning stove, a candlelit dinner, toasting s'mores round a fire-pit.  Better still, chestnuts.  Good servant stuff.  What could possibly go wrong?  Well, now I live in tinderbox dry California and wildfires happen.  The bad master stuff.
One week ago, I was going about life in a normal manner, e.g., picking Cabernet franc.  Exactly one week later things are not quite normal.  In fact, I'd go as far as to say they are abnormal.  I went to bed last Sunday night ignorant to the fact that there was a wildfire raging just a few miles from here.  Without going into detail, except to say that what ensued was quite dramatic, at 3.45 a.m Monday morning Vinomaker and I had to quickly evacuate Vinoland.  I grabbed Vinodog 2, my passport, my green card, my wedding ring, my rosary beads (from the Vatican) and my purse - and I was gone! We returned about 7 hours later.  Everything just as we'd left it, but now covered in a grey and black layer of ash.
Six days later, we still have no power, but thank God we have everything else.  In an area just about 3 miles from Vinoland, an entire street is gone.  I don't have that voyeur-bone in my body that some folks have.  People suffering horrible loses are not there for my entertainment.  I would want to grieve the loss of a home, a pet, or all of my possessions in private.  Yes, I'm curious, but this cat doesn't have nine lives.  I'll survive without witnessing, first hand, the misery of others.
Speaking with neighbours who have been in this area since the early 60s, I have learned that wildfires ravage this area about once every 20 years.  One neighbour recalled for me the calamitous fire of 1964, the year he moved to Coombsville.  And an even more destructive conflagration in 1981.  So, it seems, we were overdue.  Everything in life is cyclical and that includes wildfires.  It's just that now there are more people and homes in the way of Mother Nature (when she takes it upon herself to do a little housekeeping).  And vineyards.
Last winters heavy rains only exacerbated the intensity of these wildfires, as there is plenty of fuel to keep them stoked.  The charred hillside, from where I took this photograph, is now mostly clear of brush and shrubs, a lot of the larger trees are blackened but still standing.  Just like the neighbourhood itself: a little singed, but mostly unscathed.  I wish I could say the same for all Napans.  Fuel for thought.

Water, water, everywhere...

...Nor any drop to drink.  Purple water, that is.
Yup, the maturing Cabernet sauvignon and Syrah vines aren't the only purple things in Vinoland of late.  There are pipes, tape, markers, valve boxes and signs and, yes, all of them are purple.  And not a very attractive shade of purple at that.
Due to the fact that there is not a lot of water in Coombsville, Vinomaker opted, a few years back, to receive recycled water from the Napa Sanitation District.  So, some two plus years on; after permit approval, the signing of a water-use agreement (the Recycled Water Users' Guide is 40+ pages of the usual governmental-twaddle), the handing over of a not inconsiderable amount of dough, having the physical connection to the main pipe installed and dealing with a mucky little dog who is inexplicably drawn to mounds of dirt (though it is possible that V2 thinks we have giant gophers), we are almost to the point where the recycled water can be connected to Vinoland's irrigation system.  But, hang on, it's not that straight forward. Regulated by Napa Sanitation District, the San Francisco Regional Water Quality Control Board and the California Department of Health Services the entire process has to be inspected and reinspected numerous times to make absolutely sure that not one drop of recycled water comes into contact with potable water: hose bibs are not to be installed on any part of the recycled water system. Really? Can't wait to hear what some pinhead bureaucrat thinks of me filling my water bottle up under an irrigation emitter.

The Black Cat's meow.

This afternoon, Vinomaker and I spent a pleasant couple of hours at Black Cat Vineyard's harvest/wine club pick-up party.  Proprietor, and winemaker, Tracey Reichow was also releasing her 2014 Howell Mountain Zinfandel and 2014 Coombsville Syrah.  I had a quick taste of both new releases, but due to the rather toasty temperature, (it got to 89°F down the road in Vinoland), I stuck with a rosé that was being poured. And lots of water.  Lots of water.  I tasted enough of the Zinfandel, however, to determine that it did pair well with the barbequed ribs, Italian sausage and beef brisket with crispy grits that were being served, yum.
Good fun and good wine.

Caldwell Vineyard.

Today, an impromptu tasting at Caldwell Vineyard had me looking back, from an elevation of about 600 feet, to Vinoland.  I love the Coombsville AVA, I love the wines and I love living here.  Surveying the eastern hills, I noted to myself that Mt. George (slightly left of centre) was looking particularly splendid in the late afternoon sunshine.
The tasting, hosted by proprietor John Caldwell, was extensive and seemed to include a majority of Caldwell Vineyard's wines (they make 21 different wines, about 5,000 cases in total).  But, in reality, I probably only tasted ten wines in total.  Still, that's a  lot of wines to taste.  A standout for me was the 2013 Caldwell 'Silver' Proprietary Red - a palate pleasing blend of 75% Cabernet Sauvginon and 25% Cabernet Franc (all from Caldwell's Coombsville estate), delicious blackcurrant, plum and violets (with Vinogirl-pleasing acidity).  And a lovely, get-the-beef-wellington-on-my-plate, 2013 Merlot which was all subtle red plum, red cherry yumminess. Then, there was a bourbon, phew, long story.  All in all, a great tasting.

Bye-bye, Berlenbach Vineyards.

The end of an era.  Today, Far Niente Winery, who lease quite a bit of land in the Coombsville AVA, bulldozed out the aged Chardonnay vines at Berlenbach Vineyards.  (This is the vineyard that UC Davis were not interested in owning.)  I climbed up to the top of Vinoland and watched as a Caterpillar D6 uprooted the vines and pushed them into huge, gnarled heaps.  Always sad to see.
Later in the afternoon, when the dust had all settled, Vinodog 2 and I took a stroll up to the vineyard to have a peep at what was going on.  It's a fabulous site, the soil seems to be of great quality - a gravelly loam (no tuff, like Vinoland), with wonderful western sun exposure.  Far Niente have already had the new Chardonnay vines delivered for the replanting.  In a fenced enclosure, with shade cloth for roofing, I'd estimate that 10,000+ green-growing bench-grafts await their moment in the sun.  Vinodog 2 and I introduced ourselves - after all, we will soon be watching their development, from Vinoland, on a daily basis.

Fish Friendly (wine) Farming.

Last week I noticed a couple of new signs in the neighbourhood, (I think they are in two different vineyards).  The first time I spotted them, as I whizzed by on my way to TWWIAGE, I saw the drawing of the fish. The next day I saw the word friendly.  Fish-friendly wine?  A Sauvignon Blanc, perhaps?  There isn't a creek on either of these vineyards, but they each do climb a little up a gentle slope, so I was intrigued by the brightly coloured signs.  On my day off I decided to stop and have a better look and do a little research.
The Fish Friendly Farming programme is run by the California Land Stewardship Institute (CLSI).  The CLSI is a non-profit organisation that works with farmers and landowners to design and implement environmental projects that will help reduce the amount of fine sediment entering the waterways of Napa, Sonoma and Mendocino counties.  The CLSI believes that the declining population of coho and chinook salmon and steelhead trout in California is an indication of the overall health of the ecosystem.  The CLSI's blurb says that they are; "Encouraging practices that protect the endangered coho salmon and steelhead trout. Because premium food and wine comes from a pristine environment." Well now, I love good food and good wine so I feel that this programme is something I could get behind: good stewardship of the land is after all the responsible thing to do.
I don't know how much it costs to be certified 'fish friendly' (it probably isn't cheap) and one has to be re-certified every 5 years and one has to buy the metal signs.  Still it may all be worth it if rivers, streams and the fish in them benefit from farmers who perform Best Management Practices.  But - and there is always a but for me - I'm afraid that being certified fish friendly for some winegrowers and wineries would just be another marketing tool to sell more wine. Consumers nowadays are bombarded with green-labeled products and a lot of those products don't stand up to what they claim to be. Greenwashing is the term that has been coined to describe the use of misleading marketing about the purported environmental benefits of certain consumer goods.  And I'm pretty sure that wine, as just another consumer product, isn't immune to such deceptive practices.
Caveat emptor!

What ifs.

The photograph on this Vinsanity post is meant to illustrate how I imagine our great-great-grandchildren will enjoy their Napa Valley wines.  I envision a future where Riedel may have been forced out of the glassware business because all wine will be being quaffed from coffee mugs, (in this case, a rather fetching Robert Mondavi mug - adorned with Bob's mug).  I came to this rather alarming conclusion after reading a stunningly unscientific article in the January issue of Scientific American, 'Will We Still Enjoy Pinot Noir?'  The article is written by Chicken Licken, sorry, I mean, Kimberly A. Nicholas who is an associate professor of sustainability science at Lund University in Sweden.  Ja, that Sweden.
Ms. Nicholas writes to educate us all about climate change and its effect on wine-growing regions around the globe and seems to be on a crusade to save the wine styles that we know and enjoy today for the benefit of the palates of future generations.  I dunno, personally, I am glad that the Bordeaux wines that I can enjoy today do not resemble any of the wines being produced in that particular wine region during the (approximate) 300 year period when Bordeaux was owned by England: they were most likely horrid by today's standards.
Wine was not being produced commercially in the Napa Valley 200 years ago (as it was in most European countries), and even if it had been would it have tasted like, oh, let's say the Saddelback, 2011 Merlot (Oakville AVA) that I am going to drink with dinner tonight?  I doubt it.  There are a lot of variables that have contributed to the evolution of wine production through the centuries, not just heat.  Obviously, temperature brings out different characteristics in grapes (ergo, wine), but focusing only on the influence of heat ignores the importance of things like soil composition and topography, etc.
There is no real research documented in this article other than a graphic which cites the work of Lee Hannah (of Conservation International) and Patrick Roehrdanz (of U.C. Santa Barbara), which suggests that climate change will force the wine industry to "migrate" to survive.  A sidebar claims, "California growers in Napa and Sonoma are experimenting with ways to compensate for climate change, preferable to moving to new locations."  How preposterous (and alarmist) is that statement?  I personally know a few Napa growers and not one of them has mentioned moving their operations elsewhere.  I don't know about Messrs. Hannah and Roehrdanz, but Ms. Nicholas hails from Sonoma, so I am assuming that she has noticed, first hand, the very current lack of plantable acreage in the Napa Valley and is aware that, basically, there is a moratorium on hillside planting.  Oh, and there is a tiny paragraph that mentions some sunlight analyses that Ms. Nicholas conducted with her "colleagues at Stanford and U.C. Davis," which showed "that for every 1 percent increase in light, there was a more than 2 percent decrease in desirable tannins and anthocyanins." Not one "desirable tannin" (and its subsequent disappearance) was named in the article.  Well, there goes the neighbourhood...and the palates of the wine drinkers of 2080!  (Wonder where Ms. Nicholas bought her crystal ball, because I want one.)
There is one thing in the article, right near the end, perhaps as a meagre attempt at objectivity, that I agree with, but it is nothing Ms. Nicholas proposed.  Jason Kesner, of Kesner Wines (producers of mainly Chardonnay and Pinot Noir), believes "that the most outstanding vineyards in the region may still be generations away."  How dare he be so optimistic and so audaciously uninformed!  But I happen to agree with him.  With new techniques, equipment, plant materials, philosophies and, yes, even conservation, I think Napa wine-growing has a rosy future.  The Antinori's, the Italian wine dynasty, who began making wine in the really toasty middle ages, have even invested in Napa's future.  I am not filled with doom and gloom.
Nobody knows whether or not global warming is fact or fiction, man-made or a natural and cyclical phenomenon and to pretend (with no facts to back up that pretense, especially in fact-free articles like the one in Scientific American), is just irresponsible and journalistic-sensationalism at its worst.
My own empirical data suggests, nay screams, that after about a decade of trying to get Cabernet sauvignon, clone 4, ripened in chilly-Coombsville I am not likely to achieve a desirable level of ripeness in 2015 either.  Not this year, not 100 years from now.  Sigh.  I should have planted clone 169, and that's a fact.

Winter Solstice, 2014.

As the sun was beginning to set today, I made my way almost to the top of Vinoland with Vinodog 2 to admire the view.  Of course a few trees got in the way but not one, solitary raincloud spoilt the vineyard-vista.  No, today I finally got to see the sun for the first time in what seems like ages.  And how appropriate that the sun reappeared for a little while on the shortest day of the year, (although I did feel like I was being rationed).
Funny story about the vineyard in the middle of the photograph (not that funny, actually).  The gentleman who owned this vineyard passed away last year and in his will he had bequeathed the vineyard to the UC Davis Viticulture & Enology Department.  But UC Davis didn't want it, they wanted cash instead.  Apparently, contrary to what a familiar proverbial phrase claims, beggars can be choosers.  The gentleman's widow is instead leasing the vineyard to Far Niente.
Happy winter solstice, enjoy, be happy...for tomorrow it starts to stay lighter, later.
Sing it Ian!

Winery Christmas Lights 13.

A star, a star, dancing in the night, With a tail as big as a kite.
The folks over at Meteor Vineyard seem to be filled with the Christmas spirit, the gate to their vineyard is very festive.  Meteor's shooting-star fairy lights made me and Vinodog 2 feel very exultant on our walk today. 
Grapevines everywhere are naked now.  The onslaught of rain has beaten every last leaf to the ground, but I'm trying not to let it bother me.  I put on a silly, but festive, wooly hat that I purchased when I was home last month to walk V2 this afternoon.  If silly is synonymous with festive, then I am it.
I have never had a Meteor Vineyard wine.  Meteor produce a Cabernet Sauvignon, of course, that sells northwards of $225 per bottle, so I probably won't be trying it any time soon.  But I do appreciate that the owners of Meteor Vineyard observe festiveness throughout the year.

Sign language.

In December of 2011 Coombsville became the Napa Valley's sixteenth American Viticultural Area (AVA).  Just recently a large oval sign, a familiar sight in all fifteen other AVAs, was erected against a fence on the corner of the Rocca Family's Collinetta Vineyard on Coombsville Road.  So it's all official now.
Situated a little above the level of the road, I must have driven past the sign at least half a dozen times, but hadn't noticed it (whizzing past with groceries desperately in need of refrigeration) - until I was told to look for it by a friend.  In my defense I am usually looking at the vineyard on the south side of the road, but now that I know where the sign is my attention is drawn to it each time I pass by.  I like it.

Shoots galore!

When a winemaker/grower friend recently asked me if I had ever seen both the primary and secondary shoots push on a grapevine I answered, "Yes.  And even the tertiary bud occasionally".  She seemed a little concerned that something was amiss in her vineyard as she hadn't really witnessed this phenomenon before.  I, on the other hand, deal with this vegetative-merrymaking every year in Vinoland and have, in the past, simply attributed it to the over exuberance of certain vines.  One such Cabernet sauvignon vine, sporting all three shoots, posed for the above photograph.  But it did get me thinking.
After a quick shufty through all of my viticulture books with no satisfactory findings, I turned to the internet - not much joy there either I'm afraid.  The conventional wisdom online is that the main reason for a secondary shoot pushing is the death or removal of the primary shoot.  Call me old fashioned, but I think the primary shoot in the photograph looks very much alive.  The second reason is perhaps that the vine has suffered a severe pruning.  Nope, I prune the same every year - 2 eight-bud canes and 2 two-bud spurs (5' by 7' spacing) which, in my opinion, is not that severe.  The third reason given is boron deficiency.  Ha!  Coombsville is known for boron toxicity: a neighbour of mine even trucks in water for their vineyard because their boron-rich well water would kill their vines. 
Not being happy with any of my findings, my last resort was to email Dr. Stephen Krebs, my VWT professor at NVC (who, I just found, out is retiring this summer and I am just devastated by the news).  If there is one, ultimate viticultural-brain to pick then Dr. Krebs is in possession of it.  And he said; 
"As for the multiple-bud push, the only explanation that makes sense, of the ones you listed, is severe pruning (which translates to “over exuberance”). If you combine that with a lot of soil moisture and warm, sunny conditions at bud break, I think you get many doubles and even triples."
And there you have it, at least I am satisfied with that explanation.  The climatic conditions at budbreak were such that all of Vinoland's vines were invested with a natural exuberance - which translates as a lot of suckering and thinning in Vinogirl's near future.  I love vines.

Solstice sunset.

The winter solstice's sunrise wasn't much to look at.  And up I was, looking at it, listening to Jethro Tull, brewing coffee and making cinnamon rolls: I wanted to get my money's worth of daylight on this the shortest day of the year. 
However, whilst walking the Vinodogs late this afternoon I got to enjoy a very impressive sunset which highlighted the neighbourhood vineyards with a deep, amber glow.
Happy winter solstice, enjoy, be happy...for tomorrow it starts to stay lighter, later.
Sing it, Ian!

Good old mould.

These Semillon grapes are looking good, or rather bad - which is a good thing when they are destined to become a late harvest wine.  This Coombsville vineyard is the source of Semillon grapes for Far Niente's Dolce, a delicious late harvest blend of the aforementioned grape and Sauvignon blanc. 
It hasn't been the greatest growing season for late harvest wines.  It has actually been too warm and dry - there has been no rainfall in October.  Last week there was heavy ground fog nearly every day, which is a more desirable climatic condition for Noble Rot, but it may be too little, too late.  Last Tuesday, whilst driving to work, I did espy a vineyard crew working their way through the vineyard with 5 gallon buckets, no doubt making one of many picking passes, selecting only clusters that were showing a good dose of Botrytis cinerea.  I hear the Dolce harvest can last up to 6 weeks.  It's not a cheap wine, but it is a great tipple.