Wednesday, February 9, 2011

the heat of the harvest


every year for a few months my job requires of me to turn into this working machine. where days are endless and weeks never seem to begin or end. i wake up in the morning asking my wife what day it is. it is a turmoil of thoughts and ideas. it is a mixure of tribulations and victories. we call it the harvest… and that is what we winemakers do. it is what we live for. it is the eager anticipation that last for months. and now finally it is here.
the harvest requires a serious level of multi tasking, the processing of information and the eclipse of the performance is off course the day ritual of tasting. decisions are made every split second and some plans and dreams of blends, aromas and flavors take center stage. the harvest is the culmination of a growing season that ebb and flows according to the weather. these patterns are the blue print of what underwrites the potential of the vintage or that particular year.
emotions run high. a lot of shouting takes place. instructions are passed on. analyses are captured and deciphered. more decisions are made, more instructions churned out of the brain of the winemaker. eager anticipation. each tank. each barrel…a potential masterpiece. but only time will tell. patience and persistence is the name of the game. we can only wait and see what the outcome will be.
raise a glass to another good year.

2 comments:

Unknown said...

do not start running before you can clearly 'chose your battles' take care...

VictoryLovesPreparation said...

Ca va bru?? You sound like your doing well for yourself even if you find it hard sometimes! Haven't spoken to you in a while and i hope you read this because recently i've been thinking of how good a friend you were to me in montpellier and i can't believe it's been so long since we've seen each other! Huge admiration for you! And i hope those ideas come to you to be able to create that masterpiece! Grown quite fond of the wine myself these days! Victory Loves Preparation!

The irish bloke who slept on your floor,
Stephen.