Posts Tagged ‘Lytton West’

Picking Lytton West: The Movie!

September 29, 2011

My time experiencing #Harvest2011 up at Lytton Springs this past weekend concluded with an extraordinary opportunity; the chance to tag along with the vineyard teams as they picked at Lytton West!

My phone started ringing at about 5:30am. It was Will Thomas, viticulturist at Lytton, rousting me out. In 15 minutes, I was outside the hotel, shrouded in the damp morning mist, coffee cup in hand, awaiting the arrival of his truck. He pulled up, and I got in. In the dim light, he pointed out on his vineyard map the blocks getting picked that morning: Block 33 (Carignane) and Block 45 (Zinfandel).

We drove past the Lytton Springs winery, turned off the main road, and began to wind through the vineyards. We pulled up and stopped at what I can best describe as a compound of sorts; the epicenter of the vineyard crew’s lives during the harvest, where they eat and sleep, and the jumping-off point for a new morning’s picking.

When we got to the blocks to be picked, Will hit the ground at a quick pace, prowling the rows like a hungrily alert panther, eyes darting this way and that, seeing all.

Acutely aware of my interloper/outside status, I went off on my own as soon as possible, in hopes of both observing unawares, and staying out of everyone’s way. Picking began in the Carignane block.

It was a  fantastically beautiful morning, and dewdrops shivered in anticipation of the sun’s light beginning to seep into the vinerows.

If you’ve never seen a vineyard crew at work, it’s quite remarkable. You’d be utterly and completely astonished at how rapidly they work. I’ve experienced it countless times, and I am still flabbergasted every time. Almost before it started, it was over. Block 33 was picked.

And the sun had barely crested the hills.

I got back into the truck with Will, and we drove to the next block; zinfandel.

And suddenly again, with a rapidity impossible to describe, it was over. Block 45 had been harvested.

For the crew, their day was over, but for David Gates (Vice President, Vineyard Operations) and Will Thomas, the day was only just beginning. The math, science, and technology of harvest is a whole other game altogether, and it begins with entering vital information into our systems; varietal, block, tonnage, etc. Without this info coming in on time, the winery can’t be prepared for the arrival of the fruit. David and Will put their heads together, and did the math.

When Will finally dropped me off back at my hotel, I was tired. Not physically tired (after all, I hadn’t actually been picking!), not sleep-deprived tired (5:30am isn’t all that bad after all!), but brain-tired; exhausted by all I’d witnessed, and weighted down by all I’d learned. I felt wonderful!

My challenge then was to try and assemble all the raw photographic material I’d collected into something that would do justice to the experience, but as I sifted through it all, I found it nearly impossible to fully create anything that could accurately express my admiration for our team’s performance in the vineyards; they work so extraordinarily hard, pick so masterfully clean, and consistently deliver such outstanding fruit. I was at a loss. So I did very little. I simply strung together my series of mini-vids, and let them speak for themselves. I hope you enjoy this!

To drink a Ridge wine has always been, for me, an intensely experiential event; my future experience of our wines has been immeasurably enhanced by my time in the vineyards. I offer my sincere gratitude for having been granted the opportunity. To all on the crews, to Will, and to David Gates, I say thank you!

Light On Lytton Springs: Block 23!

October 28, 2010

There are few things in the world more visually stunning than a vineyard in the mercurialy pathos-laden clutches of autumn. Autumn in and of itself seems perennially notable for the broodingly poetic emotions it evokes, from the compellingly beautific and austere brilliances of Basho’s haiku:

Autumn moonlight–
a worm digs silently
into the chestnut.

to the heart-rendingly blunt heartland realism of James Wright:

In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.

Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other’s bodies.

and on to the near-baroquely emotional fundamentalism of Rilke:
 
Lord: it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now overlap the sundials with your shadows,
and on the meadows let the wind go free.

Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them a few more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fulfillment then, and press
the final sweetness into the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the
evening,
and wander the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.

Autumn moves us. Unquestionably. And to observe autumn twining the tendrils of its melancholically zen-like in-the-present-ness with the fading vigor of vines who’ve made their dramatic contributions to the harvest and are now receding slowly into their long hibernation, is to be moved by the sheer beauty and complexity of life itself in all its compellingly mystic beauty.
 
Accordingly, my thanks go out to Sandy Johnson, our tasting room manager at Lytton Springs, for sending the following; these shots are of Block 23 at Lytton West, and, well, I should just be quiet now, and let you see for yourself … 
 

 

 

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