After having spent a good part of my morning on the computer writing publicity blurbs, I jumped the chance to go outside and do a little work in the fields. Having never done any farming and having really never done any gardening, this whole process of plant growing is completely novel to me.
We spent our time in one of our new blocks, concentrating on the most time intensive portion of the whole wine growing process-- training the vines. Essentially, when you look at a vine you have two main parts-- the barky looking stem, called the stalk, and its leafy outstretched arms, the shoots. While all parts of the vine are crucial to the quality of grape that will be produced, the most significant component is the stalk. Training, in these early stages, is all focused on this foundational part of the vine, making sure that you have the thickest, strongest stalk possible. The shoots only come into play much later, when you already have a 3-4 year legacy with the stalk.
So, carefully schooled by Justin in my own row, I set about empowering our stalks-- as I like to think. Of course, as always happens in the transfer of knowledge from the experienced to the inexperienced, the former treats the subject in a blasé way while the latter grasps at the scraps with scholarly diligence. Justin walks up to the vines, takes a firm hold, and snips with a sure hand as he works his way down the vine. I, on the other hand, walk up nervously, cradle the vine ever so gently as I feel down the vine to reluctantly snap off stray tendrils. The result is that about a half an hour later, Justin is 2/3 of the way down his row while I'm still nursing the first 1/4 of mine.
Despite my sluggish advancement or perhaps because of it, I absolutely loved being out in the vineyards training the vines. There is something so satisfying in knowing that your little snips and cuts will be the things that create a strong stalk, a healthy vine, vibrant grapes and then, hopefully, a fantastic wine. Clearly, I'm very removed from that end product, but that doesn't keep me from day dreaming in the fields and feeling like a viticulturist in the making. That said, there is something really hard about actually cutting back the vines, something that makes you feel guilty for cutting short the green shoots.
At this stage, there were two stalks that had been allowed to grow for each vine. One of these "branches" was meant to be in reserve in case the other branch, the one trained around the strings, were to break or die. So, in many cases, you have two flourishing branches coming out, both of which could make a very healthy stalk, but you must chose one to concentrate on. It was really hard for me to then cut off one of these completely healthy leads, I just couldn't help but feel like I was killing a perfectly good vine. For someone with as bad of a green thumb as me, (I managed to kill a succulent given to me at college, a plant that is known to be virtually "indestructible,") every time I trim something living, I fear it will never grow back.
Of course it is all for good reason. The fewer off-shoots on the vine, the more vigor that is concentrated into the vines' core, and the better your grape bunches are going to be when they arrive. So despite my misgivings, I went ruthlessly from vine to vine, using my shears with fatal exactitude-- I hope one day it will show in the wine! Now I may just start corn stalks and wearing coveralls with a pair of shears always in the belt loop, (not that there are corn stalks or coveralls on the vineyard, but, well, sounded good to me!)
After all, let's not forget, I do have the farmer genes somewhere in me...
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