Planting Victoria Block

May 2001 Victoria Day the first vines on our farm were planted on what was to become know as the Victoria Block. Located just east of the barn that would become the winery and just north of the wonderful old house that we call home, the field, long planted to alfalfa, seemed perfect. A long field allowing for row lengths of just about a km (250 vines per row at 4ft spacing) meant efficiency and economy for the planting while the width of the field allowed for 9 foot row spacing which would give us lots of earth for hilling up with a gentle southern slope. The hedgerows were clear and the stream runs by the southern end of the field allowing for air drainage during cold episodes. Shallow intensely gravelly slightly alkaline soils (depths in this block range from about 15 to 24 inches) with highly fractured calcarous limestone seemed to indicate enough challenge to the vines to naturally limit crop loads while providing excellent drainage and heat retention. I decided to plant chardonnay and gamay in this block and after much deliberation chose clone 76 for the chardonnay and clone for the gamay.

The day before planting day was crazy with preparation as we dragged kiddie pools out to strategic shady locations along the north end of the field, then dragged the water to fill them and finally when the warmth of the day was spent carried the vines themselves out to spend the night soaking up the water in the pools and beginning the acclimatization process.

The next day proved the first example of a lesson I would have to learn over and over. I had planned a party … champagne, friends family, food all to celebrate the beginning of something wonderful. With the champagne chilling and food prepared all that was left was for the planter to arrive. Abe Weins and his wonderful machine that would take the slender twigs capped in red wax and plant them in straight rows using GPS was to have arrived early that day farming indifferent to man made holidays and begin. By noon he still wasn’t there but our guests were, rain was threatening and I could feel the sharp edges of panic poking at me. I drove up the road to the corner of Benway and Closson where Abe was planting the day before and sure enough he was still there. Things are a little behind he said, trouble changing the equipment over to the narrower rows he said, grounds pretty wet slow going he said and then looking up at the sky and the threat of rain he said if we get anymore I’m going to have to quit until it dries out some. I can’t begin to describe my feelings at that moment but I can say it was only the first of many times in my last ten years in the vineyard that I felt a sense of frustration to incredibly powerful I could taste the bitterness on my tongue. I tried again: if the rain didn’t come and if the planting went smoothly from here on in when did he think he would be arriving for set up … he said maybe just maybe mind toward the end of the day. I went home to entertain our guests with a tour of the soon to be vineyard and copious quantities of alcohol all the while praying please don’t rain. Abe did show up that day long after the last guest had gone and planted the first row of chardonnay as the sun fell low on the horizon. It was hard planting; the soil was wet and so incredibly gravelly the chucks of dirt at times would bury the tiny vines. I knew there would be weeks of work ahead to find and properly seat each vine to ensure they would thrive but still it was thrilling to see it all begin after almost 2 years of planning and dreaming. The next day was smoother and the next smoother still no party just the moan of the tractor and the occasional bang as the planter hit yet another rock ledge in the vineyard and then it was planted and Abe was gone off to another farm to begin the whole process again. I must have prayed pretty hard that Victoria Day though because it did not rain again in the County until the end of August turning out to be one of the worst drought years the County has seen. I worked for weeks setting each vine in place, the old universal tractor broke, the weeds started growing long before the vines did and the rest of the summer is a blur memories of trading my children beach time for weeding time, early morning spraying with the backpack sprayer, trailing behind a water tank when the tractor finally did come back trying to water the struggling young plants. A whole new life began for me and my young family that summer. We called the delicate process of seating the vines stomping and due to the very vigorous nature of that particular activity I quit going to the gym too tired some days to do much more than make supper and fall asleep in my jeans only to wake up with rocks stuck to my face. Dad used to go out to the vineyard and find a weedy spot and just sit and dig them out. By September all the young plants lost their leaves and we began to try and hill them up a process which took us 3 full months to master due in no small part to the wetness of the fall; all I wanted for Christmas that year was the vines hilled up. I think we finished Christmas eve. At the end I was humbler, I was wiser and I was much fitter. Somehow despite everything I think I fell in love that summer!

Tags: Caroline Granger, grape harvest, pec wines, vineyards, viticulture