When the Rosé finished fermentation last month, our oenologue Agathe paid a house call to taste the evolving wine. I was desperately eager to savour that ebullient Esprit de Jeanne taste again, since our previous vintage sold out months ago. This is the moment before tasting: that long focus of breathing in the scents. Although it’s the nose at work, I’m intrigued by Agathe’s eyes. Her look reveals how she’s following the scents into the labyrinth of her library of archived smells, searching for identifying molecules; a quest to decipher the wine. She murmurs, “Cherry. Hawthorn. Pear. English […]
“Grapes and Old Stones”
139 posts
When we tasted the first pink juice at the harvest of our Sparkling, Noah’s reaction said it all. One sip and he grabbed it out of his mother’s hands. (First juice, no alcohol, just sweetness of fresh pressed grapes) Making our first Bubbly Reine des Sources has been a sparkling pink journey of learning, tweaking, tasting and wonderment. It began during a terrible summer of heat and drought when the word gloomy became a tired cliché. An inauspicious start, but we explored the vineyard, searching for the varietal that would bring us something fresh, crisp, a bit […]
How many times have I passed this old oak, caressed its craggy bark and velvet moss, wondered what it would feel like – to be this tree. For a day, a year, a century. From fragile young shoot vulnerable to pests, to struggling sapling prey to deer, to vigorous adolescent invincible and insouciant, to robust young adult casting the next generation, to wise old one, to ancient one… To be inside and feel my feet become roots and explore the soil, to feel my arms become branches, leaves, limbs, a crown. To feel my bark develop armour […]
My favourite gardening magazine provides a handy “to do” list for each month: when to prepare the soil for the vegetable garden, when to cut the specimens for tree grafting, when to distill the slurry of stinging nettles… In September we add the frenzy of harvest and in October the frenzy of the fermenting wine. Some years ago, when the November magazine arrived, I hesitated to open it. The malolactic fermentation had finally finished; the wine was “done” and pronounced good – a big relief after the usual weeks of worry. What I certainly didn’t need that […]
We are now in Le Temps des Cerises. “Cherry Time” conjures up everything about these rare, perfect days in May and June that stop your heart with their kaleidoscope of colours and perfumes. It’s the time of the longest days of the year, when the evening church bells echo above the river and we’re bathed in the irridescent light of “golden hour.” This particular June, it’s as if we’ve been cast back fifteen years. Before the evidence of climate change, before incessant heat-breaking records. And due to abundant winter rains, it’s once again a year of […]
My grandfather’s grandfather was a serf in Poland in the early 1800’s. I suppose he wasn’t an ordinary serf, if that isn’t an oxymoron, because he was a manager. But an economic slave nonetheless, owned in most ways, owning nothing. I was reminded of this ancestor when I found Julien pruning in the vineyard last week. Pruning and ruminating: “I look up and see an ocean of vine plants pleading for care, costs rising, climate change, Bordeaux wines in crisis and the world at war.” There was no easy repartee to this dark version of reality. So […]
Julien’s wish for this, his first year as Vineyard Manager: “A Harvest.” People thought he was joking. Nothing grander than that? … or was he clairvoyant? It was a year of frost and hailstorms that ruined the work of many. It was a summer of unprecedented heat and drought. Tomatoes got sunburned and cooked on the vine. Fruit shrivelled on the trees. Far-off fires filled our air with smoke. The usually rambunctious dog panted in the shade. Even the forest seemed to have trouble breathing. Conditions which sent us scrambling in mid August, with local workers still away on […]
Last night came a letter from cousin Quentin in Texas. It brought back a moment decades ago when Julien, then ten years old, declared that history was boring. Quentin took him aside and in less than an hour explained the entire American Civil War. Julien ran back to us, “History is so exciting! I wish all my teachers were like that!” Today Quentin is a judge and a law professor. His letter spoke briefly of the issues we face today. And his confidence that eventually we’ll get sorted out; that the next generation will pull us into the light. […]
I love epilogues. The story ends but the fates of the characters haven’t been revealed. Then a bit like cheating, you flick the page and know the future. “Grapes and Old Stones.” Ten Years On. It’s Autumn again. Hot summer mornings replaced by cold, misty dawns. Harvest pressing upon us. The incessant thrum of machines echoing across the valley. This harvest marks ten years under our belt. In November Julien will officially join us as vineyard manager. A new story will begin. As befits endings, I went back to the beginning: 15 August 2011 “Be careful what […]
Our beloved shepherd dog died last month. Danté was not only a valiant sentinel, he was a faithful companion. We were bereft. Made worse by the headlines. Pandemic. Russia amassing troops at the Ukraine border. And this week, vineyards and orchards of France hit by frost. Our son Julien shook us. “Get back in the saddle.” He did the research and leg work. He put puppy in our arms. I write about puppy as part of this chronicle because the arrival of a puppy is important. A kick start. A clown. A new member of the […]
In June, on the other side of the year, we focus west – the vineyard, the wine, the buzz and push of summer life. And this particular summer, pushing hard to get through a complicated year above water. In December we focus east, where nights wear thick velvet ear muffs. 7 pm. A covid-winter night is a silent night. Quiet magnifies the song of church bells rising from the valley. I step out into the frosty air to hear Vesper chimes. Their prayer of thanks pierces the dark. I’m glad to live in a place where old customs […]
The vineyard held out against the summer drought. Other lands were scorched. Farmers don’t bother to doubt climate change; they live it. So far we’ve been lucky. Longer growing seasons and sunny summers bring grape maturity. 2020 is already heralded to be an excellent vintage. Nonetheless. We walked parched earth in September And so it was profoundly moving when October brought a miracle of life after death. Some rain dance prayer was answered. Fields were carpeted in new green, […]
Question for today: What do mushroom filaments (mycelium) have in common with prosperity? Examining our grapes at harvest time, yes we think about mycelium and soil health. But end of September also brings the end of al fresco, safely-distanced gatherings with friends. So I am thinking about mycelium and neighbours. When we moved to this hilltop vineyard we left behind extended family and close friends in far off cities. By some happy twist of fate our children came to join us. But actually, we hardly knew anyone. On our first Christmas Eve I remembered the words of a local wood […]
Much as life in the time of Covid-19 is a chapter I would like to omit, a valid chronicle doesn’t leave out the hard parts. A few notes for “Grapes and Old Stones”: Early March 2020. After a woefully diluvian winter, the first days of Spring. Delirious, we shed our rubber boots and venture barefoot over the paquerettes and dandelions. The baby eats the dandelion stems and we smile at his herbalist wisdom. We carry platters outside for the first family lunch in the sunshine. Carry tea and cake outside for the first little gathering of friends to shake away the […]
Years ago when the children were little, we bundled them up against the cold and rode our bicycles to the banks of the Thames. It was the darkest, longest night of the year. We brought hot chocolate, brandy, candles. I wrote a poem for the occasion. We stood in a circle, the river rushing below. In their shining, fresh innocence the children were completely present and sincere. If we believed, so did they. We lit a candle as each read his or her verse; our own private stage, actor and audience, creators of our own moment. Then […]
Whispers of Violets They said you couldn’t be done That you were capricious, disdainful, coy A slow starter and rarely-ender For years we listened to them For years I warily pondered you From the corner of a mistrustful eye A June flower An August berry An October Lady in her violet drape Beckoning from the palm of my hand And then one day A tentative crush beneath the teeth An astonishing burst of tart mystery And a fragrance… elusive, impossible to name Out of reach in a dim bank of dusty neurons A fragrance of other […]
Each September, the same struggles: make Time stop, bottle the end of summer light. This year I’m holding back the flow just long enough to chronicle a new undercurrent. Baby in the house. It has been a summer of babies. And youth who were once babies – we knew them fondly – passing under this roof, through the Taverne, in the vines… adding their stories of life journeys to my memory bank. They return to this place altered by their trajectories, and I try to map their seedling selves to the adults before me. […]
“Grapes and Old Stones” is a chronicle of our new life, sometimes lived an old way. Only 80 years ago this farm functioned without electricity and running water. Today fireplaces still need wood. The outhouse needs cleaning. Big old trees need haircuts. Vegetable and flower gardens need woodchips. Now we get help from as much machinery as we can afford. No nostalgia for filling thousands of wine bottles by hand, but still, very dependent on muscle power. Some nights they traipse in, muddy boots shedding all over my clean kitchen floor, work clothes scented with compost and […]
Not that long ago, when we were naive and fearless, the prospect of making wine seemed something a mere mortal might attempt. Obviously, between the quirks of Nature and quirks in the winery, we quickly found out that this next-life endeavour was hardly a shoe in. But nothing in our enthusiastic mindset prepared us for a different hurdle: several thousand bottles of wine – how in the world to sell it? We sought advice. I asked successful friends how they got started. The most established said their ancestors set it up. Even Cheval Blanc began with people […]
Season’s end. John’s hands are stained from pumpovers and “brassage des lies.” Fermentation finished. A relief – fermentation is finicky business. And now we see the extra work in the vineyard paid off; the vintage shows promise. A few worries ticked off the list. October mornings: newly crisp air and fog wisps above the valley. Afternoons: cold water swim and last caress of summer sun. Night fall: early. John on the tanks – brassage des lies Season’s end brings changes to our nightly walk. First the winery, to bed down the wine. Embrace each tank, […]
The harvesters make a constant thrum, even at night. Everywhere, the Merlots are coming in. People are euphemistically calling this a “complicated year.” The dreaded Plasmopara viticola (mildiou) hit the Merlots hard. Some vineyards were turned into deserts. Here’s a single, desiccated plant. Imagine 25 acres. This microscopic “pseudochampignon” arrived in 1878, on the heels of the phylloxera insect – the 19th century import from my stateside compatriots that decimated almost all the vineyards in France. Fortunately, our Merlot parcels were only affected partially. Unfortunately, you can’t make good wine with affected grapes. So it has been […]
It’s high summer. The time of first fruits from the garden, long sunny days, kayaks on the water, cool starry nights, village fêtes, music rising from parties all along the river… Lavender time. When we planted the first row several years ago, I didn’t fully realize that lavender is much more than a flower. We knew of the medicinal properties against insect stings, and also hoped to deter some mosquitoes. But now, several plantings later, the spectacle of evening lavender has become central to the setting of high summer. Just before sunset is best. I sit on a broken old […]
My Farmer’s Almanac has advice for every season. From a winter to do list with things like “sort your seeds” and “clean your tools,” I latched on to this tidbit: “Take time to REST – in two months it all starts up again!” Around here most local, small-scale farmers slow down a bit in winter: all the potatoes and kiwis are in their cellars; you can’t make cheese since the goats aren’t producing milk, etc. Except farmer-heroes like Didier: he raises ducks as well as crops, does agricultural research, makes his famous foie gras in his own laboratory, and sells […]
Your Yoke of Fear I give you back your yoke of fear It’s broken now. Rent asunder, I am broken too I give you back your yoke of fear It’s broken now Useless, like the perverse turbulence that stirred up worst case scenarios In your imagination In your projections In your fury If only you had known then That it was in vain Useless Worse than useless. When real danger arose It kept you from dressing yourself in the very armor, The only armor That might have helped In those moments when yes, we must take […]
In the envelope: plane tickets to London, passes for the Gatwick Express, Oyster cards for the Underground and keys to a beautiful apartment in Pimlico. When one of our dear nephews said, “Come to London and tell your story,” we never expected such a very red carpet. I remember this particular nephew at age seven, dividing his time between reclusive hours reading “The Philosopher’s Stone” long before Harry became a household word, and running with the raucous herd of franco-british-american cousins stampeding through an indulgent Grandmére’s house. He is now an apparition in suit and tie, carrying […]