Winter Slips Away

"Hoarfrost:"   n. The white particles formed by the congelation of dew; white frost. 

We were in a fog up here on the mountain for nearly twenty four hours last week with the temperature set at 26 degrees for nearly the entire stretch.  The visibilty was only about fifty feet that day but I could peer into the woods enough to see a white frost accumulating.  When the fog finally drifted away, it left behind a visual spectacle that is rarely seen here in our stretch of Virginia's mountains.  The woods were laced with white ice, on every twig and branch. The condensing, frozen fog had created a hoarfrost that transformed the winter woods into a magical crystal wonderland. 



But by mid-morning the following day, the hoarfrost had melted away... the spectacle over.  The ridges of the higher elevations above us remained draped with icy white shoulders that lasted for a couple of days.  Folks down in town would look at the mountain range in the distance and thought it had snowed up there on those ridges and I explained there wasn't a flake of snow that fell, only a blanket of frozen fog that settled on the world up there. What a gift for me to have spent at least a few hours in a white, crystal kingdom.

And enter visions of spring... I feel it everywhere.  I can see it in the slant of the sun's shadows coming from a higher angle and in the first hint of green in pastures in the "bottom lands", as they say around here.  I can hear it in the calling of the songbirds, robins, bluebirds, cardinals, and the first rise of peepers' voices at the pond's edge.  A whiff of something sweet smelling drifted by my nose as I walked through a path in the woods today.  But most of all, I see it in those dots of white meandering through the vineyard.  Our little flock is back on the job! 

This is the perfect time to get the sheep back in to graze the vineyard floor. We will keep them there from now until budbreak. By keeping the weeds low in early spring, it helps to slow their growth and reduces the length of time we have to manage the weeds ourselves. And the eighty hooves from our twenty sheep massage the soil, and the sheep add a bit of fertilizer to the earth as well!

There is something very peaceful about working in the vineyard with the sheep working alongside me.

From a distance the vines seem unchanged from their winter sleep.  But upon closer examination, we can see the buds swelling.  Just not too soon, dear buds.  It is only February, you know, and there will be more frosts ahead, so please just rest a bit longer. 

******

Haiku

Heavy fog slithers

Frigid this damp, quiet night

Crystal my kingdom 

The Son Also Rises...

...To the occassion of our expansion!  With gratitude and great joy, we are able to officially welcome our dear son, Nathan, into the growing realm of Ankida Ridge.  Having returned from a wonderful job in Denver that paid so very much more than will come anytime soon here, he is heading up our expansion to the next level...the construction of our winery!  He will also implement our winemaking, under the expertise of our winemaker from this past year at Stinson Vineyards, Matthieu Finot.

Nathan has been hard at work with the entire design, from the size and location of the building to studying and pricing the various pieces of equipment that will fill up the building.  Groundbreaking... or shall I say "rock-breaking" began last week.  To get an idea of the amount of rock we are dealing with, here is a short video of Marvin, our "excavator extraordinaire" trying to break through the massive granite bedrock that is occupying the back corner of our future barrel room!

Stay tuned for more!

The Journey, Part Two!

Five years ago we cleared a spot of land atop a lovely knoll on our beloved mountain retreat.  A vineyard we would plant.  I remember the first few times I referred to that plot of land as "the vineyard".  I nearly felt embarrassed when speaking the word in reference to something of ours, as if we could or would actually ever own a vineyard!  The reality of it still seemed so distant, so dreamlike.  But we could and we did, and we now own and tend to a little vineyard all our own.  I love that little spot of land!

And now after three years of the vines in the ground, we can claim our first harvest.  We have wine in barrel at our dear friends', The Stinson's Winery.  Both families were newbies last harvest...  sort of like the blind leading the blind throughout "crush", that term used in the industry referring to the period immediately post harvest when we are sorting, destemming, crushing, pressing etc.  Fortunately, we were in the capable hands of our dear Monsieur Matthieu Finot, winemaker extraordinaire!.  Merci, merci, Matthieu!

Our Pinot Noir and Chardonnay are resting quietly in oak barrels, a mixture of new and neutral French Oak.  They continue to undergo their transformation.  It amazes me, the change in flavor and mouthfeel in these wines from their post primary fermentation period.  Currently they are undergoing a process called "malolactic fermentation" in which the malic acids are converted into the smoother lactic acid molecules, changing the mouthfeel and acidity levels.  In France they refer to this as the "spring fermentation", as that is when the wines naturally kick into this stage of their cycle of development.  It is all just so amazing to me, and I continue to see the comparisons of rearing children to giving birth to wine... Our adolescent wines are now tucked away in their rooms, away from us as they continue their growth and transformation.  We only peek in once in a while to make sure they are coming along OK!  Our hope, as is every parents' hope, that they will emerge from their adolescence unscathed, mature, and ready to give their talent and gifts to the world.  A taste of  their talents we will soon enjoy.

Haiku

In the dark you rest

Transform young, unknowing ways

Emerge, speak our land

Looking back........

Clearing land, Winter 2006-07

Cover crop planted, Aug 2007

Tilled, rocks removed, marked, ready for planting, May 2008

Ready, Set.. Plant!!! May 10, 2008 (3,500 vines!)

Baby vines emerge, June 2008

And grow up to show their beauty, July 2010

And bless us with their lucious, sweet fruit



And after the harvest

The transformation.... the fruits of our labor become wine

Sometimes, when I sit back and reflect, and try to assimilate all that has brought us to this point,  I think of it as somewhat of a lofty, dream.... one that I have been delighted to share with you.

********



I feel very honored to have had one of my photographs selected for the cover of the 2011 Virginia Winery Guide. I thank those who voted for this photograph.  I hope through this image, I can do my little part to help promote the amazing wine industry of Virginia! 

And Next, Looking Forward...

A winery of our own!



Triple Celestial Event!

Last night the alignment of the sun and moon and the rhythm of the seasons lined up for a rare, and I mean rare, celestial event. Not since the year of 1638 has such an event occured. On the Winter solstice we had a full moon this year. In addition, we witnessed a full lunar eclipse. Well, some of us did at least.
Our skies were clear as the huge round moon rose above the mountain ridge. Our land here at Ankida Ridge is still covered with snow, so to stand outside in the dark overlooking the vineyard and into the woods was bright enough to see every branch, every limb on the ground, every shadow of the trees. It is absolutely magical to stand in that silvery, milky aura of light.

 

Just after midnight, an hour or so before the onset of the eclipse, a haze stretched across the sky, and just  before the eclipse started, a band of dotted clouds began rushing past the moon, giving the effect of the moon racing across the sky. And by the time the eclipse was underway, the clouds had totally obscured my view of the moon. My eyes did not see one moment of this rare stretch of hours that had not been experienced in 372 years!

But as I lie in bed, tucked snuggly under the covers on this blustery, cold winter's night, I reveled in the rarity of this celestial event, imagining life here in these mountains the last time this alignment coincided. There were no settlers here then. Our mountains and valleys were quiet and unlit and inhabited only by the Natives, the Monacan Tribes. They lived in clusters nestled in small patches of cleared forests, and under the light of the moon their teepees must have glowed. At the image, I smiled as I tucked myself more deeply under the covers and had to settle for imagining what was happening in the heavens above, behind the untimely clouds. I had witnessed a lunar eclipse in the past. I knew that once the first cresecnt slice of white was carved from the bright, white face of the moon, the lunar glow would gradually dim, until at the full eclipse it becomes an eerie, rusty orange ball hanging in the sky. Then the white crescent returns and creeps across the orange face, growing fuller and finally returning the moon to its former glory, illuminating my woods once again with a silvery, magical, lunar light.

I was asleep well before the eclipse had peaked and would have to settle for other people's captured images. But I made the moment special in the only way I could, to reflect on it and imagine its beauty. I look forward to a half moon for this Christmas Eve and the light it will sprinkle into my beloved woods and upon my beloved family who will gather here this Christmas time.

Moonlight and a family gathered....Simple pleasures. But those are the best kind.

This Winter Solstice morning delivered me a beautifully colored sunrise, the sun rising today at its southern-most point.  It will now begin its trek toward the northern sky, across our valley, moving right to left now, and with it lengthening each day just a bit.  We've made it past the shortest day of the year!

 And now... onto the celebration of Christmas! 

A Vitis Aestivalis "Festivalus"

Recently I enjoyed a visit to the home, or shall I say "wild lab" of a very interesting man, Dr. Cliff Ambers, whose passion is re-discovering and working with native grape species. Our vineyard consultant, Lucie Morton, our son, Nathan, and I traveled over the mountain and through the woods, driving through a most spectacular palatte of autumn colors to arrive at the Ambers' beautiful old country home and vineyard nestled at about 1000 ft. on the eastern slope of Tobacco Row Mountain in Amherst Co, VA.   We stood under his "Courdec 3309" (a rootstock!) pergola on a most delightful late autumn afternoon, brilliant sunshine dappling through the diminshing leaves above us.

Growing grapes and making wine at his Amherst County home dubbed "Chateau Z Vineyard", Cliff lives the life of an authentic vigneron, performing all operations by himself with no hired help.  He scours the mountains, creekbeds, roadsides, forests, fields.. anyplace where wild grapes might possibly grow.  He currently has planted in his vineyard nine species of 100% North American wild vines, including grapes with names such as labrusca, riparia, cinerea and more. He pollinates these with selections from his over 200 cultivated varieties, including hybirds and vinifera stock, the intention being to increase the genetic diversity and to gain insect and pathogen resistance from the wild stock, thus allowing for cultivars that require less chemical sprays and more environmentally sensitive practices in the vineyard.  Cheers to that! 

We stepped inside the house into the country kitchen, walking first through an enclosed porch with tubs of fermenting foods filling the air with a sweet, pungent perfume.  Inside the table was "set" with a long line of wine glasses containing a hefty pour of various shades of red wines, all in a neat row, all labeled.

Cliff asked us to place them in order of depth of color.  He sat with this computer and notebook and had us all taste each of them, asking for tasting observations that will help him make breeding decisions for future vintages.  Lucie was impressed by some of the fruit flavors and structure.  Some were a bit too acidic, probably a bit tart for most tastes, albeit they had only been harvested one month ago and had only just finished their primary fermentation.  But all were certainly very interesting and were quite different from the wines most of us are accustomed to drinking.  But his hybridizations will tame this "wildness" and his work might one day bring to the world of viticulture in our region a species that pleases the palate, is indiginous and is pest and disease resistant.

The tasting complete we cleared the table for lunch.  Lucie had prepared a pumpkin peach soup made from her homemade  dashi base (Japanese soup stock), garnished with her homemade "peppy pepitos".  And Cliff had prepared homemade tempeh he sauteed up and served on his wife's homemade rye bread with home grown tomatoes and lettuce.  And I threw in some of my homemade applesauce whilst we sipped some of Cliff's homemade hybrid Vitis cordifolia wine!!  Do you get the  picture?!  T'was a veritable feast, an array of brilliantly prepared foods shared with some brilliant people.  A lovely, informative, delightful day at Chateau Z.  Keep up the hard work, Cliff! Well done!
http://www.chateau-z.com/

Cliff and Lucie seeing eye to eye!

Autumn Colors the Vineyard

Haiku

Crisp and golden leaves

Tired, relinquishing life

Fall softly to earth

 A quiet, crispness fills the silence of this evening's vineyard stroll.  Crunching grape leaves underfoot and lonely autumn crickets are all that's heard.  The birds are silent.  The constant whirr of cicadas and katydids are just a memory of sultry summer nights that remain vivid in my mind. But now the days are noticeably shorter, the nights becoming chilly, the sun is rising far to the south.  Soon the vines will sleep for a nice, long while.

I wonder, as I look at the nearly naked canes and stems, how much vigor the weaker vines were able to store in their roots for next season.  Will they finally come on strong next year, or is there just something inherent in the soil in certain areas of the vineyard that are holding them back?  No one seems to know for sure.  With this year's additional root growth and catching up, hopefully there will be a bit more uniformity to their vigor and size next year.  And with it a more abundant crop.  This was a good year.  They had abundant sunshine, were disease free, were irrigated when needed.  It was in fact a very good year.  Hopefully we will see the results in next year's crop.  In the meantime we wait for the wine from this, our very first season, to develop its inherent qualities and unique expression of all that has brought it to this point.

I have always loved searching the clouds for imaginary figures that feed my imagination.  In this image can you see the bank of angel faces looking down on the vines? 



And Dear ol' Dan... Somewhere along the way, he has lost his grooming skills and has turned into a muddy, gnarly, nearly dread-locked mutt!  He is getting on in years and I cherish the moments we have together.  He is still effective in his guarding duties, although he does now leave the chasing up to Bella while he, without moving a paw, sits and barks at whatever merits his warning!

Ol' ragged Dan!

Oh pretty Bella!

The sheep now roam freely during the daylight hours and every morning I find they have hiked the half mile up the mountain side to graze around the house and enjoy a bit of a different view from up here on the ridge. 

And I was excited today to find this tasty little morsel left on the vine.  It was puckered and nibbled on, but still was a delicious, unexpected sweet treat.

I cannot end this post without including the most magnificent of mornings I enjoyed yesterday. There had been much talk about the fall colors being non-existent this year due to the severe shortage of rainfall.  And up till a few days ago, there really was not much color, and here it was almost November.  But in a near explosion of color, after receiving over two inches of rain the previous day and night, the sun rose and illuminated the most spectacular fall morning.  Ignition!  We have color.. spectacular color that nearly popped overnight and will probably dissipate as quickly as it arrived. In typical years, I've noticed the red-leafed trees lose their leaves before the yellows and golds come on. But this year they all came together for a most unusual and spectacular burst of color.

So here you are.  What gifts such scenes are, a feast for the eyes.  Enjoy!

 

Next:  Soon we should be getting a sneak taste from the barrels of wine!  Oh, be still my heart!

Goodbye Dear Flippy Dog

My handsome threesome... we've been together for so many years.  Killian is the senior member of the trio, an ol' mixed breed, abandoned mutt, we think an Akita mix.  Then about seven years ago came this most unusual little gal, a Corgi/Bassett (maybe) mix with short, contorted legs and front paws that looked like flippers, thus the name.  And then our big guy BoomBoom found his way to our cabin in the woods as a lost, starving puppy.  My threesome.

Our littleFlippy had been acting a bit confused for a few days.  When I came back from town one morning recently I  heard her yipping loudly and found her stuck in the blackberry patch.  I had to don my beekeeping outfit to protect myself from the prickers and literally cut the briars away from her to release her.. poor little thing.  As the day progressed she grew more confused and unstable and by evening I was giving her subcutaneous fluids as she had gotten very dehydrated.  I was hoping that was all it was, but alas something much more serious was going on.

Within twenty-four hours she had deteriorated enough for us to take her to an animal emergency hospital in Charlottesville.  All of this was going on as we were preparing to attend our daughter, Marisa's, baby shower.  We dropped Flippy off at the hospital while we went to the shower.  Flippy remained stable so we brought her home with us, IV's in hand and enough meds to hopefully keep her alive while we figured out what was going on.  The blood tests they ran on her were relatively normal.  She made it through the night and seemed a bit better the next morning.  I put her outside under a bench next to a tree and she would lift her head occasionally.  I wanted her to feel the joy of the mountain air that she loved, hoping it would send some endorphins through her body and help her heal.

She gradually fell into a deeper sleep.  I layed down on the ground next to her for long stretches, rubbing her back, whispering to her.  She knew I was there.  Then shadows swooped over us in the late afternoon sun.  I looked up and three vultures were circling overhead.  Go away....
What do they know?

If she wasn't improved by morning, we decided there was nothing more we could do.  We were giving her all the meds that could possibly help, but nothing was improving her condition. We tucked her in for the night, rubbing her ears, whispering into them our love.  She seemed cozy in her position, settled in for a good long sleep.

She was gone in the morning.  She looked so peaceful. We cradled her and continued to tell her how much we loved her, hoping she could somehow hear.  We to this day do not know what it was, other than a severe neurological condition, perhaps a brain tumor?

We buried her up on the mossy knoll, Arnold, Dennis and I, along with Killian and BoomBoom, who truly  sensed what was going on and stood vigil throughout the burial process.  And dear Arnold came back with her little "gravestone" he carved from a piece of wood.

Flippy, little girl, we will miss you so.

Oh how she loved to cuddle

My constant companions

Haiku

Prance those little feet

Your nose lifting for your treats

Silent your steps now



Chardonnay!!

Three weeks to the day after we harvested our Pinot Noir, the Chardonnay were ready to come off the vines. It has been a very difficult year for Chardonnay in Central Virginia. A week of fog and rain at bloom dramatically reduced fruit set. Then just as the grapes were nearly ready to be picked, the Brix just about where we wanted it, we get hit with a deluge of rain, some places over 4 inches of rain. Our brix dropped 1 1/2 points.. from 22 to 19.5. So we have to wait for the sun to come out, dry things up, let the sugars come back up. Just about ready again... another deluge, the brix back down. This was the scenario throughout our region as we all anticipated our Chard harvest.

In the meantime, while our dogs were "guarding" the vineyard at night, aka "sleeping" in the near-side of the  vineyard, some woodland critter had been sneaking in from the forest on the other side of the vineyard, crawling up into the netting and using the space as a convenient little channel to stroll through and feast on the grapes the netting was supposed to be protecting! Here is a critter's eyeview of this bountiful opportunity!

So, what had already been a diminshed crop was diminished even more by the little beasts! Next year (are you beginning to hear "next year" pop up quite a bit??) I will raise a new dog to live on the far side of the vineyard and that will be his area to patrol as the grapes ripen!

The day of harvest for our Chardonnay was the antithesis of our Pinot harvest morning. The skies were bright blue, the air cool with soft breezes drifting by. Our harvest was completed in half the time of the Pinot, and off Nathan went, driving an air-conditioned cargo van of fruit to the winery.




And with that... Done!  A year's worth of raising these grapes from the day the little buds of green broke through in early April, timing our sprays around weather systems, pruning, tying, thinning, watching, searching for disease, testing the sugars, monitoring for the multitude of pathogens and critters that would love to devour our fruit before we send them off to become wine. It is done. The season over. Oh, we must still monitor for foliar diseases and keep the vines as healthy as we can for the next couple months while they replenish their body with sunlight, nutrients and water in preparation for a hibernating winter season, after which it will start all over again. That is the redeeming factor in growing these cherished grapes.. there is always another year. Until then, we will be monitoring and sampling the juice from our fruit and waiting patiently as it sits in the barrels over a season, making that magical transformation into wine.



Haiku

A season of toil
Completes a measure of time
Light are your arms now