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Back in the Car Office Again

October 19, 2010 in And Then Some, Farming the Vineyard, Life Creeps In | No comments

Hat? Check.

Coffee? Check.

Wool socks? Note to self, get some.

Laptop? Check.

Cell phone? Where IS that? Ok – check.

Lots of books to catch up on? Double check.

Toilet paper for public bathroom? Triple check.

Ladies and Gents, I’m back in the Car Office again.

After a fairly short break in real life but like an eternity in web life, I’m right back here at Columbia Park, in north Portland, Oregon, in the car. “Where have you and your Car Office been?” you ask? Well, why don’t I just tell you?

But FIRST, some BREAKING HARVEST NEWS:

The bird netting is being taken off as we speak! Yoohoooooo! That’s right everyone. We’re gearing up for harvest this week. Boy those grapes are taking their sweet time this year! Have had some recent frost scares, some rain scares, but looking at the forecast for the rest of the week

we’re good to go. Scott says the sangiovese still needs some time, but the riesling, cabernet sauvignon, and tempranillo will be snipped by Friday. I’ll try to wing Sam and myself out there for some live, on the spot reporting…

Now on to me. Ha! Seriously. I’ve enjoyed this time away from writing/blogging and here’s why: When we first planted our vineyard, all our freetime went there. All of it, and boy, did it piss me off when I no longer had the vineyard fever like Scott did. We were down to one car, my old Subaru, my autobahn and mountain baby I had with me when I lived in Germany and week-ended in Switzerland, and then my solace when I returned to the States as solo gal, that old suby my trusty trusty on all my Pacific Northwest adventures. Nope, it had been relegated to the farm car, and we had a vineyard to plant, dammit! Anyway, I didn’t want to feel pulled in two directions again, especially now with Sam in our lives.

Some months’ ago, Sam’s daycare ended, thankfully, not that he had a bad time there, but I didn’t like how the gal tweeted about green sale sweaters and a lot more when she was supposed to be engaging with the kids. Geez, louise! That experience solidified how precious our boy was, and somehow I felt guilty to have put him in that gal’s care. I also finally “heard” the lyrics, when Bert sings to Mr. Banks in Mary Poppins, “…childhood slips like sand through a sieve,” and boy didn’t that tug at my heart. Having just moved into a new house last month (yes, there are loan gods!), I essentially have just been hanging out with our very sweet boy in our new digs, and boy am I happy for it.

But now I’m ready to return to this (it’s time!), and thankfully have found a VERY COOL nanny who comes to our home twice a week, and then I escape. Back in the car office again. Look for more coming soon.

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The 10 Essentials II/III

August 4, 2010 in And Then Some, Farming, Farming the Vineyard | 4 comments

A list of 10 things a person should have at their disposal when venturing out into the Wilds of Wine.

5. Sense of humor. Back to the Hogsback. It’s 6 AM, hiking from 10 PM, and we’re almost to the summit of Mt. Hood. We’ve just found out our comrade is afraid of heights. And if that doesn’t turn one’s stomach, the altitude, Mt. Hood’s up-top sulphuric fumarole stink, lack of sleep, fatigue setting in, and all those carbs we’ve been downing will. You have to, umm, “go.” So there you are, out on the Hogsback, exposed, literally and figuratively, and you gotta dig your little hole, and pretend you can’t see your team up the way, and THEN, well, get out that little blue bag because a key maxim for hiking is “Pack it in, pack it out.” And all you can do at that point is to find the humor in it all, or else feel rather miserable.

Having a vineyard is no different.

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Week Twenty-Six: The Little House On the Hilltop Project

July 1, 2010 in The Little House on the Hilltop Project | No comments

HIGHLIGHTS: Preliminary Design Package Done, On to Phase II. Sneak Peak! Junk the Countdown. Inching Along: To Do List.

JUNKED* COUNTDOWN: 17 WEEKS *(Last time you’ll see this particular countdown. See below.)

Twenty-six weeks. That’s half a year. If this were the only thing going on in our lives I’d be rather ashamed at not being further along. But between taking care of Samuel and the nanny being sick and hawking our wares in NYC, house chores and a bunch of family-based travel, Week Twenty-Six and where we are in it is a wonderful half-way point. Not that I know where and how and most importantly WHEN this Little House On the Hilltop Project will end. But halfway sounds just right. So halfway here we are. Read the rest of this entry »

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What The Floods Washed In

June 8, 2010 in A Sense of Place, Secret Office Video Files | No comments

And it just keeps coming! This one touches upon the stone swept into our vineyard land and surrounding area from the great Missoula Floods, those cataclysmic dispatches of water that thundered out of Montana, across Washington and through the Columbia Gorge into Oregon’s Willamette Valley, the last ones some 12-14,000 years ago. It was these that formed the landscape around us, as well as carved out the magnificently scenic Columbia River Gorge. We’ve got tons of this washed-in gravel on the site, dug through around 300 feet of it for our well before hitting basalt (what the volcanoes flowed in). It’s some wild, rugged land out there, I tell you.

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Napa Valley, Missouri

May 25, 2010 in And Then Some, Eye Roll, Please, Wine World Homogeneity | No comments

So get this. Driving around in the Midwest last week, in a bedroom-like community of Kansas City (a be-YU-tiful city – need to spend more time there), saw a housing development going up named “Napa Valley.” I was SHOCKED. And then amused. And then SHOCKED again. Why? No, it’s not because it was a small tract of land that was flatter than flat with just a hint of the many more identical McMansions that would be slapped up there blaring out at us from the distance. And for sure it’s not because of its Midwest locale. Nor because it was lacking any atmosphere of ANY kind. (Disclaimer required: I’ve never been to Napa Valley, I’ve just seen pictures, but this development wuhddn’t [sic] no Napa Valley!) Here’s why I was miffed: Read the rest of this entry »

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A Peek From the Hilltop

May 21, 2010 in A Sense of Place, Farming the Vineyard, On the Land, Secret Office Video Files | 2 comments

Figured it was time to show a little about what I’ve been either hinting at or outright saying about our little vineyard on the frontier. The video says we went yesterday, but we didn’t — it was last week. Just takes me some time to edit all my “uhs” and “ahs” and, of course, the blather. And so what if I whisper at the end something that indirectly gives nod to what I think about our wine. Someone’s gotta say it someday. And hopefully soon it won’t be just me.

And for another one day soon…I’ll give our whole sordid story in video form, since so many of you have been asking, but for now, enjoy the wide open spaces that surround our place.

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Let the Wild Rumpus Start

May 17, 2010 in And Then Some | No comments

It’s been a busy morning. Busy weekend, really, that seems to continue into the work week. This morning we had a house inspection; put an offer on a much bigger house not too far from where we currently live – we love the neighborhood so, North Portland, the last outpost of the city where you can find affordable housing in a spot that feels at times like a small mountain town. Views of Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens are the norm, as well as the running backdrop of Forest Park, the largest urban woodland park in the contiguous US. Would rather that we were putting an offer on a house in The Dalles, or better yet, building our own out there next to the vineyard, or at least down the hill aways – because NOTHING compares to that view, in my opinion (stay tuned for video post to see what I’m talking about).

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As the Meadowlark Warbles

May 6, 2010 in A Sense of Place, On the Land, The Meadowlark | No comments

For me, if I don’t hear a meadowlark out at the vineyard, it’s not complete. I don’t know why that song has come to signify the “being” of me there, but it has. Thankfully I hear one every time. And then I wonder, is it the same one? Do we have a resident meadowlark like our resident kestrels?

We were at the farm just the other day, Wednesday. Scott was showing around a city-slicker NYC friend, to whom I had loaned a fleece and hat because she had left NY in balmy weather, only to find a spring Oregon chill. Sam and I were checking for owl poop, I mean, pellets, under the owl houses that stand some 10? 12? feet above the trellis poles, attached to them by long screws and bolts. Sam carefully grabbing onto the vines as he hauled his growing little legs over the lower wire. Scott noticed and called out, “Make sure he doesn’t knock off any buds,” which I was already doing, of course, imagining where next year’s fruit canes might come from.

We headed toward the boxy house, white markings along its face, dropped by birds surveying from its roof. I really wanted to find a pellet. Wanted to find the little mass and pull it open with a vine’s cut spear that still dotted the rows from this year’s pruning, and see the bones and detritus that it might contain, stuff you learn in 10th grade biology, or from your crazy bird-mother… But there were none to be found. Only a quick rustling of feathers as we approached, and then a blur of wings as it left its hole. Was it an owl? (It would have to be a small one.) Was it a kestrel taking over a larger home? (The kestrel homes are more an rectangular upright, this was a horizontal positioning.) I don’t which bird it was, but I only knew it was there, and it left in a hurry, with Sam trying his best to keep upright, his face all rosy from the cold, and wind, stepping over the wire, and not far away  atop another pole, the meadowlark let loose.

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Screw It.

May 2, 2010 in And Then Some | 2 comments

Woke up this morning to the Times Square bomb scare. How thankful I am for the people there, of NY, of this country that a terrible tragedy was avoided. I was just thinking of bombs and explosives yesterday. We had just finished The Hurt Locker, and well, if you’ve seen it, or have first-hand experiences with such madness, how can it not leave a mark on you?

Out walking Jack we were in our usual park, one in north Portland I don’t think many people care much about. It’s almost always empty, save for errant underwear or condom wrappers or fried chicken bones. But it is a beautiful park, tall, majestic cedars, soft, full grass, forget-me-nots dotting out in the sun-kissed areas. This park backs up to an armory, kept separate by a chain fence with barbed wire at the top. Samuel likes to go close to it and look at the desert transport vehicles lined up next to olive drab trucks and other machinery uncategorizable to a civilian eye.

So there I was, out running around with Jack, and I came across a golf ball just lying there. I’ve stopped picking up errant objects out of fear, I hate to say, from all the news of middle east bombs disguised as toys from years back. Even though if I were to pick it up, I would most likely not lose my hand or arm or life doing so. But I think about it, and more importantly, I think about others who face real crap like that every day. And how much we take for granted. And then I think about my own whining, “Oh, this small house! Oh, all the naysayers! Oh, all sacrifices for this vineyard and wine!” Oh, woe is me, little, poor Stephanie. Tcha. I gotta shut up and buck up. I’ll try. I really will.

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What’s a Farmer?

April 18, 2010 in Farming | No comments

Scott says a farmer is someone who just likes to see things grow. I think it has more to do with dirt, meaning, how dirty you get in the process; the dirtier you get, the more “farmer” you are. Sure, there’s more than that, but that’s what’s on my mind at the moment—dirt—so with my life and brain as it is these days, best take what comes in and work with it.

Take a “grower,” for example. That’s what the wheat families whose fields surround our little frontier vineyard call themselves. Although they did start out as “farmers” we were told, and I know that they also like to watch their fields grow and ripen, “farmers” they are not. Read the rest of this entry »

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