A special weekend away...

We are a Facebook family. My friend Shannon says, if you ever want to know what's going on with our family, log on to Facebook. It's all there. It occurs to me, however, that not all my blog followers are on Facebook, which is a good thing really, because the blog fulfills an entirely different purpose in my life, one that stretches beyond those comical snippets that describe my "status." But then, if you only follow the blog, you miss out on the photographic documentation of events that take place beyond the fence line at Four Cedars. And some of these events are signinicant...

On August 15, in a tiny century-old church in rural Wisconsin last Saturday...there was a princess. Escorted by her father, my niece Steph, looking like the angel that she is, made her way to the altar, where her beloved stood.

From the balcony, an ethereal glimpse of the father of the bride embracing the groom. Family and friends looked on. I noticed many near me with tears in their eyes. Tears of joy, no doubt. Though I had a spot near the front and could have taken pictures throughout the ceremony, I chose instead to set the camera down and remain in the moment.

There will, I expect, be more of these types of photos floating about on Facebook in the coming days as people unload their digital files. If I see some as striking as the the ones that follow, I will snag them as time permits and post them here as well. And, like the rest of the eager family, I will await the work of the professional who was hired to capture all the wonderful moments of what took place near the highest point in Trempeleau County Wisconsin, and along the Mississippi River later that same night.

Real food, enjoyed by real people...

Did you know a pork butt comes from the front leg of the pig, which is nowhere close to, well, a pig's actual butt? What gives?

Of course, a pork butt is also known as a pork shoulder. Now that makes sense to me. Then of course, there's the Boston Butt, which is close to the same thing, though my son will probably clarify this for me. I'm not sure when the pig was in Boston, or if he's even a Red Sox fan.

Company came so I slow-cooked a pork shoulder in apple cider to make pulled-pork sandwiches. The cooking tip came from Heidi. So did the pork. We (me, Heidi and the pig) got rave reviews on the meal from those who came for a visit and got a tour and lunch. We closed the meal with Janice's strawberry pie. (I like to give credit where it's due.) No leftovers on either the pork or the pie, by the way.

The meal put one of my guests in nap mode, which in my mind is the highest compliment one can pay a chef, even an amateur chef like me. Lucky for him, I didn't listen to my dad and sell my swing. It doesn't get used much, it's true, but still it's nice to have when a friend needs some shut-eye.

All in all, it was a good day filled with good food and company, another rarity around here. Yes, it was a good day. A good hot summer day. At last!!

Do what you love and you'll never work...

A friend and I recently shared our experiences as new entrepreneurs. Like me, she felt pulled to transform a lifelong passion into a venture she hoped would grow into a profitable enterprise. And like me, she's learning that in order to work "on her business," she needs to work fewer hours "in her business." This means that in order to be successful, chances are she'll be spending much less time on the passion that drew her into business in the first place. That's a tough irony that catches up to all entrepreneurs eventually. Even writers.

This afternoon, I toured a local vineyard that boasts 13 acres of grapevines, a nursery, and opening in 2010, an impressive winery/event center/restaurant. The vineyard, which was established in 2000, was perfect. Every row had vines teeming with ripening clusters, the grass strips between the rows had sharp edges and there wasn't a weed to be seen anywhere. Trust me; I looked hard. I can't imagine there being a better maintained operation in the state.

As I moved through the tour, I listened to the owner talk about his processes and his plans. I also pondered the varied skill sets that will be required to be successful in the venture. It's one thing to be a good grower; being a good host is another thing altogether. I wondered if he'll find planning menus or hiring waitstaff or scheduling events to be as rewarding as growing grapes. Undoubtedly, something will have to give in order to manage it all. And then I learned what his first "something" was going to be: harvest. This fall, at this vineyard, harvest will be done via machine.

We haven't yet experienced harvest here at Four Cedars. But that doesn't mean I haven't planned it all out in my head. It will be a glorious September day. All my friends will drive in. I'll nourish them with food and wine and music and up and down the aisles, my friends will laugh and sing while tossing plump clusters into plastic bins. The day will be less about efficiency than it will be about sociability, yet the work will get done because we're doing what we love so it isn't really work, right?

I could never give this dream up to gain the efficiency of a machine. (Not even if it rains every day in September.) And I'd never want to grow so big that I'd even consider machine harvesting an option. Yet, if I were in the grape growing business in a serious way, the way I witnessed a local grape grower today, I'd have to consider all options in the name of efficiency.

Thankfully, I survive on other skill sets. My grape growing can remain a passion that I can "work in" instead of "work on" for as long as I continue to love the leaves and shoots and tendrils and even (hiss), yes even the weeds.

This past weekend we finished hedging and skirting (pruning those flopped over and dragging shoots). It looks much better after pruning is done. Now it's time for bonfire.

War, declared today...

Allow me to catch you up on events here at Four Cedars; it's been awhile since my last post.

The weather is confusing my vines. The days are sunny and dry, barely breaking 80 degrees. The nights are cool and dry and dewpoints, for the most part, hover in the 50s. My vines think they are growing in the Williamette Valley, not in the American Midwest. They'll get their wake-up call in about two months.

The Marquettes are amazing me with their vigor. I've had to hedge them at the top because they are flopping into the center of the rows. The Edelweiss, meanwhile, have recovered from their springtime frost burn and are looking very much like you might expect a second-year vine to look. Their growth is adequate, which to say manageable. And the weeds, well, they are doing what weeds do best. Annoying me.

Today, I found evidence of an enemy. Yes, there is an enemy afoot...or, perhaps, afeather.

The picture above was taken two weeks ago. One week ago, those clusters went from green to glorious gold. Hubby and I each took a nibble of the not-quite-ripe fruit. It was tart with a hint of green apple flavor. Yummy.

As the gold color got richer, I knew ripeness was on the horizon. I pulled another one. Yummy. This time it was not quite as tart but still there was a hint of green apple. The clusters were wearing gold like an Egyptian queen.

These three clusters were destined to be my bellweather grapes. I was counting on them to tell me much about how sugar levels change daily as grapes ripen. I started browsing for a refractometer. And then...

...tonight on my stroll through the rows, I checked my golden lovelies. They were gone. Every single ball of citrine, gone. This is heartbreak.

There is an enemy out there. It must be stopped.