What were we thinking?
Three years ago, we asked ourselves this question often. Then, most of our energy went toward rectifying decades of neglect. It was easier to get past our aches and pains when we could just blame the previous owner(s) for not knowing -- or caring -- how to maintain a property so its value appreciates. We'll turn the place around, we told ourselves. Once the dirt and debris gets cleared, we'll be in the clear too. Ha!
Then we got an idea to plant grapes; whether it was a good idea remains to be seen.
About a month into farm ownership, we met a nice fellow from town who struck us as the kind of guy who can get things done. We shared our idea with him and asked him if he knew a guy who might have a plow for hire. He did. The pasture needs to be turned, we told him. (We were thinking ahead). He nodded and promised to take care of it, which he did.
We ran into this fellow this weekend. He complimented us on our vineyard. "I always wondered if you knew what you were getting into," he admitted to us. Clearly, we didn't I told him, laughing on the outside but aching on the inside.
The experienced grape growers have told us that we will grow and learn as our grapes grow. This June, I learned that year two requires as much effort as year one. It is a painful lesson.
Last week brought us almost 3.5 inches of rain and temps in the 90s. Good growing weather for anything green. Three days before the above picture was taken, weeds outnumbered vines by roughly 20 to 1. But this post isn't so much about weeds; I spray herbicide to kill weeds. First, though, I had to go up and down the rows getting the robust vines, which were twisted and sprawling in any number of ways, pruned and tied to the trellis.
You can see what I mean, eh? I have to stick my head into this tangled mess and select two straight, upward growing lateral shoots that look as if they have the potential to give me a healthy crop in 2010. Everything else gets cut. It takes about 10 minutes and requires much patience and critical thinking. In spite of the mess of potential in front of me, there is a right path; deciding takes faith. It sort of reminds me of parenting teenagers, except this also requires bug spray. Hubby told me he'd rather pull weeds than prune. Tony and Shannon spent the day helping with this task and both told me they saw twisted mangled vines in their dreams. They stopped short of calling them nightmares. I'm grateful.
Once the vines are up off the dirt like this one, I just have to wait for the breeze to abate before heading into the rows with the herbicide sprayer. I've discovered the calmest hour of the day is at 5 o'clock in the morning.
Once the vines are up off the dirt like this one, I just have to wait for the breeze to abate before heading into the rows with the herbicide sprayer. I've discovered the calmest hour of the day is at 5 o'clock in the morning. Last Thursday as I pruned in the hottest part of the day, I again asked myself: What was I thinking? I know only a few women who, in blistering heat, would ignore biting flies and dirty fingernails in order to create something lasting -- something beautiful. Wouldn't I be happier, I asked myself, if I were in an air-conditioned coffee shop sharing thoughts on the latest best-seller, all manicured and comfy? I push the thought away and convince myself instead that I'm putting my energy toward something special.
What was I thinking? I was thinking grand. I was thinking beautiful. I was thinking legacy.
Fortunately, I have been blessed to know some women who, like me, are willing to work hard and get dirty in order to achieve big things. They inspire me to push ahead down the rows.
