Though we did just have a big rain storm, we are in the midst of one of the worst droughts in Napa since the early 1970s. Because that era predates my time as a winemaker and grape grower, this is a new experience, and the proper course of action isn’t totally clear. Taken along with the uncertainty in the economy, this is an interesting time to make wine. Wine is a long-term prospect, and at our artisan scale there is no way to alter our course in regards to the economy—we’re pruning vines this year that will produce wine that reaches you in 2013, and there are obviously many directions our fortunes may take us over that time span.
When I read in the news about the struggles to farm in faraway places like Afghanistan, or post-Soviet Georgia, with tanks rolling though olive groves and vineyards, I am amazed at what efforts people will take to cultivate the land. Think of Chateau Musar, tending their vineyards and making wine through the decades of chaos in Lebanon or peasants in Mexico avoiding drug lords to bring their sacks of corn and beans to market. Membership in the agricultural fraternity is never a picnic, but my belief is that the special moments that these and all farmers and gardeners throughout the world experience, when the sun is shining down through the leaves of their crops, and they can smell the soil, and the miracle of it all briefly becomes apparent, is what gives them the courage to keep going—against floods, droughts, tanks, bad men, and all of the other times when the future is uncertain.Despite the drought, the vines are looking good this winter as we are pruning them. The canes are firm, dark green inside, and have a healthy reddish glow. I stuck a shovel in the ground the other day at our home vineyard to check the moisture level and the rooting depth of the winter cover crop that we plant between the rows, and there were five earthworms in one shovelful of soil. The organic soil-building practices that we have been employing should really help the vines through this upcoming dry season. And by restricting the crop that the vines were required to carry last year the vines have stored up plenty of energy for good deep root development—with less water available for irrigation, the vine roots need to be able to reach way down and find water deep in the soil.
As long as the crop level is reduced accordingly, and the summer isn’t too hot, dry springs are known to produce exceptional quality. Warren Winiarski, a client that I consult for, and one of my mentors, has been making wine in Napa for 40 years, and remembers the vines adapting to the two previous droughts that he has experienced (one in the 1970s, and one in the 1980s). The old vines that he planted back then are still strong and healthy—and need very little water compared to younger vineyards that are experiencing drought for the first time. Grapevines are survivors—a trait that must have contributed to them being one of the first cultivated crops. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the ancient Mediterranean crops—figs, olives, barley, pomegranates, and grapes--are incredibly tough and resilient.
The art of farming requires that we adapt to Mother Nature’s constant curveballs. I have a bumper sticker on my truck that says “Mother Nature always bats last,” which I think says it all. We had hoped to avoid cultivating the soil this year, and plant California native grasses between the vines, to re-establish the type of savannah ecosystem that originally covered the Napa Valley. The dry winter changed that plan—instead we will be cultivating everything in order to hold the moisture in the soil. The trick will be to time the cultivation for the precise end of the winter rains. We get more deep percolation of any rainfall when the ground cover is still in place than we do after it’s cultivated, but every sunny day the ground cover grows, it uses some of that precious moisture up. So we watch the weather every day, and wait for the right moment to pounce. These types of decisions pervade both farming and winemaking. Decisions on when the press, to rack, or to bottle, all require constant observation, flexibility, and bursts of effort to scramble and assemble the logistics to make that stage of the operation happen. There is a saying that “the difference between a good farmer and a bad farmer is ‘two weeks.’”
Besides pruning, we recently racked the 2008 red wine, which is something we typically don't do at this stage, but I felt that it needed a little air to continue its development. I feel that the 2008 may be our best all around vintage yet. With the extra structure, it needs a little rougher treatment than we usually give the wine. The racking opened the wine up nicely (I think of a racking as decanting the wine—it moves the wine’s development along, giving it a nudge forward). The 2007, which was initially very closed, has opened up magnificently—we’ve never made such an aromatic wine. We’re debating on when to bottle it—it’s coming together so fast, that we may bottle it this spring.
It is with immense gratitude that we can report that our vines seem poised for the challenge this summer: they are strong and healthy, our wines are good and sound, and, thanks to you, they are selling, despite the economy. As always, we are tremendously appreciative of the support that you give us as we realize our dreams. Anything other than staying the course is unimaginable.