Shiver me timbers!

I have often thought about how stable of a career I might have had if I had chosen to become a meteorologist.  I am more than capable of licking my finger and holding it up into a prevailing wind; I can molest a piece of seaweed to assess its dampness; I can delight in, along with some random shepherd, a beautiful sunset.  I can do all those things, I'm a veritable amateur-augur.  So I hold that being a precipitation-prognosticator on the telly not only seems to be a really cool career, but it is perhaps the only job I know of that any person working as one can be wrong 50% of the time (forecasting the weather) and they won't get the old heave-ho.

High winds forecast for October 14th did not materialise. (Although, as a precautionary measure, PG&E did shut off the power to most of the county of Napa for a total of 46 hours and 31 minutes).  A similar forecast for October 25th seemed like an non-event: that was until about 7 pm in the evening.  I was busy making dinner when all of a sudden the roof felt like it was being lifted off the house, the timbers creaking and moaning.  Vinodog 2 was very disturbed.  My poochie does not like wind.  

The extremely high winds continued throughout the night and were very, very loud.  So loud, in fact, that I did not hear the demise of a large deciduous oak that was toppled on the edge of Vinoland's creek.  At first, it looked like it had missed the bottom row of Cabernet vines.  However, on closer inspection, when V2 and I returned from our walk, I was able to see that the fallen tree had landed on the first seven vines.  Bummer.  It was only later, when Vinomaker had performed a bit of chainsaw-surgery, that I discovered only one vine had bit the dust, snapped off near the base.  Bad, but it could've been worse.  Sigh.

Hard life being a farmer, I really should have become a meteorologist.

The Un-Bonfire Night.

The Bonfire Night that wasn't, that was Bonfire Night, 2016.  Ho hum.  I think I mentioned in my previous post that the weather was forecast to turn gangster: it didn't disappoint.  Although it was dry, it was just far too windy to have a bonfire.  Not that there is the danger of a bonfire getting out of control in England (unlike perhaps it would in tinderbox-dry California), but it was just too unpleasant to be outside.  I did see lots of other fireworks, off in the distance, but they did not totally satisfy my inner pyromaniac. Thud had made some delicious treacle toffee earlier in the day, so I did get to partake of something traditional this Bommy Night.
In lieu of a list of pyrotechnic-wonderment, I thought I'd mention a quick round up of some wines that I have had in the past week.  Paired with a nice Bolognese that Thud made, the 2014 Messapi, Aglianico (DOC Acerenza), purchased in Marks & Spencer, was quite nice (though a tad bit oaky).  And at a couple of lunches out with my Vinomum at The Red Fox pub in Thornton Hough, I took advantage of the establishment's 'By the Glass' wine list and had a glass each of; a 2015 Terre Di Passione Pinot Grigio (Veneto IGT); 2015 Crusan Colombard/Sauvignon Blanc (Cotes de Gascogne); and a 2015 Lanya Sauvignon Blanc (Chile).  All passable quaffing whites, with perhaps the Sauvignon Blanc edging out the other two by a nose. Literally, a very aromatic wine.

Happy St. David's Day: 2014.

'March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb.'  So goes the old saying, but with March being such a changeable month, weather-wise, this saying may not always ring true.  And of course it all depends on ones geography: I am more likely to experience lamb-like conditions towards the end of March in Napa than my brother is likely to experience in Liverpool.
March definitely came in like a lion in Napa.  Extremely high winds overnight, that continued until about 11 a.m., have made a mess of Vinoland, with branches and twigs strewn all over the place.  V2, who is morbidly afraid of wind, has been pinned to my side and has been loath to go outside - even for her morning ablutions.  I generally don't like wind myself, it's very unsettling.  One good thing, however, is that the wind has dried-up the ground a bit.  It was very muddy working, tying down canes, in the Pinot grigio vines yesterday.  I should have better luck today, at not getting stuck, when I start pruning the Cabernet Sauvignon vines.
So Happy St. David's Day to all - whether one is of Welsh extraction, or not.
Bore da!

Back in Blighty.

Yup, I am back home.  My mother was having a special birthday, so I, with the help of Thud, decided to surprise her.  And surprised she was. What was also surprising was that my first two days here were sunny and dry.  I knew the dry weather was not going to last, of course.  A quick drive over to New Brighton today  reminded me, none too gently, of how powerful the winds off Liverpool Bay can be.  I shouldn't complain: Fort Perch Rock has been withstanding the 40 mph winds (and worse), that I had the joy of experiencing today, from it's vantage point on the River Mersey since Napoleonic times. Ten minutes was enough for me.  I really should have had something stronger than coffee.

The leaves have taken their leave.

After two days of rain (the first of the season, really) and 24 hours of unusually high winds (sustained wind speeds topping 40 mph, with gusts up to 69 mph), I should have known better than to expect a relaxing breakfast this sunny, but still windy Friday morning.  "Would you like more coffee," says Vinomaker, "and by the way, there are 3 deer in the vineyard."  What??? 
Now it's not like deer can do any damage in the vineyard this time of year, but they are still a nuisance.  The vines, that were full of yellowing leaves on Monday, are practically naked after suffering through so much weather the past 72 hours.  There is absolutely nothing in Vinoland for the deer to munch on this time of year.
Initially, we thought the deer had entered through one of Vinoland's front gates.  The wind was so strong last night that the larger of the two gates had been blown off it's tracks, which left ample space on either side that the two does and one yearling could have easily stepped through.  After a few, unsuccessful, attempts at trying to encourage the interlopers to exit Vinoland through the other, now open, gate, the deer led Vinomaker to where they had actually sneaked into the vineyard. 
Timber!  A neighbour's pine tree on our fence line had blown over.  In the process it had peeled open a 6' by 4' hole in our deer fence where, even now, there were more deer standing about contemplating also visiting Vinoland.  I don't think so.  Actually, our unfortunate neighbour had a second tree topple over just outside his backdoor.  He's a lucky man.  Or, isn't.  I expect I'll be hearing a lot of dueling chainsaws this weekend.

A rosé coloured glass.

Looks can be deceiving.  What seems to be a pleasantly sunny, late spring day on Liverpool Bay was in fact one of the coldest, windiest days I have ever experienced at home. Stepping around the corner of a building to take this photograph I had to really lean into the wind for fear of being blown over.  Even a glass of a so-so rosé of Tempranillo at a nearby establishment could not fully chase the English weather-blues away.  Well, that's not strictly true.  The sight of a familiar coastline stretching out before me was a tonic for my seaside-deprived eyes...at least it was when the wind wasn't whipping my hair into my eyeballs.  Ouch!

Wind, wind, go away!

There was a high wind advisory for the entire San Francisco Bay Area today. They weren't kidding. Our power went out, and was out for 14 hours plus. Soup for lunch, hot dogs for dinner, and water for cups of tea were all heated on top of our wood burning stove...which we wouldn't have lit otherwise because it was unseasonably warm outside. Driving into town was a little hair raising with large branches and debris being flung from every direction at the car. We lost two trees in Vinoland, which had Vinomaker rubbing his hands together with glee at the prospect of being able to get out his chainsaws tomorrow.
I noticed this fence and it's covering of crispy grape leaves, on a vineyard in downtown Napa. I thought it made quite a nice little pattern on the wire...isn't Mother Nature great?

Coals to Newcastle.

Harvest has begun in Vinoland. Earlier today Vinomaker and I picked our little crop of Pinot gris and Orange muscat, but that was after a brief road trip. Vinomaker, always anxious to try something new, had contracted to buy some Chenin blanc grapes and so at the crack of dawn we headed off into the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta to collect our fruit.

An extensive system of earthen levees, creating low lying tracts and islands separated by sloughs, have enabled wide-spread farming throughout the delta. Its peat soil makes it perhaps one of the most fertile agricultural areas in California, contributing billions of dollars to the states economy: That includes our donation of $1200 a ton for the Chenin blanc. We passed by expansive fields of tomatoes, sprawling pear orchards, swaths of golden feed corn, and vast sea-like plantings of alfalfa replete with marauding, rapacious great blue herons.

We drove through the delta towns of Rio Vista, Isleton, Ryde, Walnut Grove, and Locke (the term town is used loosely here), finally arriving at our destination: Courtland, elevation 5'...yes, it is extremely flat out there. The Chenin blanc had already been picked and we just had to load it up and take the berries back to Napa (apparently we have a shortage of grapes in Napa!)

Evidently everybody else in the delta was harvesting that morning too, and not just grapes. We were at one point delayed behind a couple of giant, dual-gondola trucks brimming over with tomatoes and cucumbers, which resembled a colossal mobile Greek salad (albeit sans feta.) At least it did to Vinogirl, who like the herons, had began to work up an appetite.

Returning to Vinoland there was just enough time for a quick cup of Earl Grey and a handful of Cadbury's Chocolate Animals before Vinomaker cracked the whip and the processing of the grapes began.

Happy harvest 2009 everyone!

Out of place.

Went on a hike today in Thurstaston on the Wirral, a peninsula across the River Mersey from Liverpool. It was extremely windy and Thud and I got beat up by it. We stopped for a Mars Bar break on a bench with a fabulous view of the Dee Estuary with the sunny Welsh hills beyond.
England never looked so lovely to me; pheasants meandered in a field below, swallows bobbed and weaved overhead, cows lazily munched their way over the extremely close cropped grass in a nearby pasture, and a small brook babbled in the background. I commented on how green and lush the grass was and how silly I thought it was for people to have lawns in California. Thud agreed and said how he quite liked the landscaping style a lot of Californians are now leaning towards of native, drought tolerant plant species, adding that it would be like planting a vineyard in the field in front of us...then having to build a greenhouse around it. Rain threatened a little so we continued on our trek.
With the parish church of St. Bartholomew coming into view, we knew that we were close to the end of our walk. It was then that we noticed, as we looked across the estuary to see if Wales was still bathed in sunlight, something very familiar, to me at least, on the horizon that we had not expected to see: a vineyard. We climbed over the gate that led to the field of vines to get a closer look. Indeed, it was a vineyard of only about 2 acres, I would suppose, but a vineyard none the less. We were both stunned. It seemed so out of place.
I have been home for a week now and have seen the sun for at most a few hours, total. Unless these vines, whatever varietal they are, have the ability to ripen in tundra like conditions they are going to produce grapes with some seriously high acid. I do not think the cultivation of vines in more northerly areas is an indication of global warming. Instead, it is more likely that new hybridised varietals are being produced that are more cold tolerant and less sunlight needy. At least that's what I believe as I sit here with a woolly jumper on, getting paler by the second and in desperate need of a mug of hot chocolate. Oh, to be in England now that May is here!

Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it.

It's extremely windy in Napa right now, the entire Bay Area actually. It would be a good day to fly a kite. I took this pic of my English Bull Terrier weather vane, (thanks Vinomaker), a little while ago. You can't really tell but the cups were going like the clappers. I'm happy because the Cab grapes will definitely benefit from the airing they are getting after last weeks rain. They may also experience a little dehydration so the Brix may look elevated when I take a sample tomorrow. Of course sugar is not the only prerequisite for timing harvest, I will be tasting the grapes too.
V1 is not bothered by the wind but V2 is a little unnerved, as are the weather forecasters who warn of the fire danger Santa Ana winds can wreak. Maybe I should keep the hosepipes at the ready...otherwise I may be harvesting raisins!