Countdown

It's hard to remember an August quite like this.

The mornings greet us in the vineyard with dew kissed grape clusters, and overflowing rain gauges (four plus inches on a recent torrential night.)

Breezy afternoons where the thermometer hovers at 70.

Rain gear and jackets that normally wouldn't see the light of day until October are summoned from musty storage.

And so the pleasant work of Veraison, the season when the vines ripen their fruit, carries on in the vineyard.

Our six varietals, August 14, beginning to show their harvest hues.

Imperfect clusters are culled from the vines.

Clusters are gathered, weighed, tasted, and chemically analyzed to track ripening.

Bird netting is installed.

Normally in this season, our concerns are staying hydrated and watching for sun stroke, as we race the clock  to fully dress the vines for harvest.

This year we have to remember to pack an extra jacket, and be on the look out for mold and mildew on the damp vines.

So while it makes a pleasant work day for the vineyard workers, the vines themselves would prefer it much hotter and drier.

If our previous harvest seasons in Canton, Ohio have taught us anything, it is to expect the unexpected:

And so it is: another unusual season among the vines.

But, what a beautiful season it has been.

Each day forward on the countdown to harvest, we will be posting here a picture or an observation  from the vines.

Labor that began among snow rollers in a Vortex-frozen January vineyard, continues its steady march through an unseasonably cool August.

Anything can yet happen:

Stay tuned, and watch it unfold.

Bushels of imperfect fruit, culled from the vines.

Change

For months in the vineyard now we've been surrounded by walls of solid green.

Tiny buds that seemed so vulnerable on those startlingly cold May mornings have since unleashed a torrent of growth.

We've trained, nurtured, and positioned those individual shoots.

Up through the trellis wires.

Forcing rampant nature into an orderly form it would rather not take. We've had a lot of intimate contact with acres of nothing but green.

So needless to say, something that is NOT green catches your eye.

Marquette cluster in the North Vineyard, July 21

As it did a few days ago.

The first few berries I assumed were wasp-stung or perhaps bruised by the tractor.

Then I'd see another.

And another.

From sour apple green to a slightly bruised olive, until finally pink, and ultimately purple.

So it wasn't an injury or an outbreak of disease in the vineyard, but rather the season unfolding exactly as it should:

The second-to-last week of July, amidst a rare stretch of startlingly pleasant 75-degree days, we have arrived at the season of Veraison.

Veraison is when the grape vines shift their energy from vegetative growth, to the ripening of the fruit.

The outward clue to this internal shift is the sudden arrival of points of color amid all of the green.

One by one, the berries (as each individual grape on the bunch is known) turn.

For a few days, which some call the party balloon phase, the individual berries on each cluster will vary: Greens and pinks and reds and purples happily co-mingle on all the same bunch.

Eventually, they will stabilize to the final varietal hue.

In the case of our our vineyard, our six varietals will produce clusters that will range from amber (Vignoles) to apricot (Aromella) to to bronze (Frontenac Gris) to dark purple (Arandell and Petite Pearl) to blue-black (Marquette).

Until these jewel tones settle into their final ripe color, we will enjoy the variety, and a palette that changes by the hour, with each subtle shift of the afternoon rays, with each berry that darkens and sweetens, exactly on cue.

Blackberries along the South Vineyard fence row.

This year, veraison struck the same day the wild brambles along the back fence row yielded their first glistening fruit, the same day the apples in the orchard acquired their first blush of red, the same day the poke weed along the gravel lane began to drip fountains of purple fruit.

The shortening of the days.

The approach of autumn.

All around us, the plants are responding, coloring the landscape, enticing the birds.

It's a beautiful scene, but one in which we can't linger.

Leaves must be pulled from the ripening clusters, exposing them to even light to ripen the fruit.

Vines must be trained.

Bird netting unfurled, hopefully in advance of ravenous migratory hordes.

It's the kind of day you pause at the end of, look down the neat green row you've just worked through, admiring the new hues, ignoring the rampant untamed growth (just for the moment) that lies ahead.

Our varietals in August (clockwise from top): Marquette, Frontenac Gris, Arandell, Petite Pearl, Aromella. Center: Vignoles.

Veraison

The season of veraison is upon us in the vineyard.

As the days grow perceptibly shorter, the vines shift their energy from shoot production to the ripening of the fruit. The color deepens, the berries soften, flavors and aromas develop.

In a challenging viticulture season, neither unusual late season frost nor ravenous geese nor periods of near biblical deluge can keep our resilient Marquette vines from bearing at least some fruit.

The view above is from the North Vineyard, after we removed excessive leaf growth encouraged by our abundantly wet summer, in preparation for installing bird netting.

This is the season we expose clusters to the sun so they can fully and evenly ripen, and do our best to protect the sweetening fruit from bird and beast.

All it takes now is sunshine and time. One by one, the berries turn. 

A simple thing, but startling and amazing nonetheless. One day the vineyard is nothing but green. The next day it is not.