Much could be said about the weather in 2019: with drought conditions beginning in late June, intermittent rains in August, and virtually no rainfall from September through harvest and into October. An atypically dry Virginian summer to say the least, and as grape vines became low maintenance in absence of rain, the livin’ and farmin’ was easy. The pre-harvest work entailed walking the rows, tasting berries and coordinating picking schedules with the neighbors so we could lighten our collective load.
Petit Verdot in late August.
But the restless heart can always find something to fret about, and so we worried about the late September heat wave, which precipitated berry shrivel in some vines, and determined the harvest as it pushed some fragile berries (and fragile emotions) over the edge, necessitating a decision to pick a la minute.
As I walked the rows, tasting berries pre-harvest, I was struck by the fine-grained quality of the tannins, creating an almost spicy effect on my tongue in that the tannic sensations accumulated over 10-15 minutes of sampling. Post-harvest, David related that these tannins created a “cloud like TV screen fuzz” over the flavors during fermentation, obscuring other aspects of the newborn Cabernet Sauvignon — meaning that we will have to be patient (months and years) and wait till the tannins settle to experience the lovely fruit underneath.
Cabernet Sauvignon going from the destemmer into barrels to begin fermentation.
Our Terroir (Lions, Tigers, Bears, Bees, Birds)
Mount Alto is a largely wild place, mostly forested with only a smattering of pasture, a scattering of houses and two small vineyards. In 2019, the pressure from wildlife was the greatest we’ve seen, featuring an intense battle with the local deer over our sovereignty. The battle resulted in a what I’d like to characterize as a draw — we got to make a couple barrels of wine, and they got a healthy share of this year’s crop, and perhaps some much needed moisture in the process. Question: Can a deer jump an 8 foot fence? Answer: I do not know, but I can assure you that they can jump through a 6 inch hole located 4 feet above the ground because I saw them do it with my own two eyes. Our neighbors the O’Briens from up the hill had a bear that went … wait for it … over the fence and made off with some rather fine Petit Verdot. In addition to drought, recent clearing of a parcel of about 100 acres of forested land may have played a role, forcing deer onto adjacent properties in search of food and shelter.
Bee Sign
The bees also forced our hand at harvest time, beginning to hammer at the ripest berries as their skins softened just enough to allow them to be pierced by their dainty probosci. In two of the 3 three vintages that we have experienced here, bee pressure (yellowjackets to be precise) has provided some irritation. We watch them reduce our harvest — nearly every cluster loses a berry or five ( a 5% loss or even more?), and we watch these losses mount as we wait endlessly for ripeness levels to increase. My esoteric side asks if maybe they’re telling us something, maybe the wait is over and ripeness is sufficient? We haven’t bought fully into this notion, but their constant reminders (and poaching) no doubt factor into when we decide to pick. Perhaps some year, when our yield is sufficient to do multiple batches, we’ll do a “bee sign” harvest to, ahem, see what the buzz is all about.
Biodiversity
Though they reduce our yields, and create a hazard for uncovered hands, the buzz of four species of bees (by my untrained count), criss-crossing spider webs, and myriad butterflies and other insects that accompanied our harvest makes me feel like we are doing something right. If nothing else, biodiversity has thus far persisted, and we intend to continue to be a humble, rather than dominant, part of it. We do have to strike a balance, but there can be no economical balance without an ecological balance, so we will continue to get better at living within, rather than trying to change, these parameters.
The “free run” Cabernet Sauvignon on the right, the “press juice” on the left. David shot this as he was transferring the 2019 to barrel.
Next Steps
All this is to say that while some things were different, many things stayed the same in 2019. Our mountain is in a bit of flux with the timber harvest, and our climate may too be in flux with summer heatwaves extending later. We are observing, learning, and expanding ever so slowly and we are eager to continue stewarding our small part of this mountain.
It is November as I write this, and we have already begun the soil work that marks the official start of the 2020 vintage. All the 2019 wines are safely tucked into the cellar, and we will need to be patient to see how they evolve in the coming months and years, but we are super excited about our early impressions. We anticipate a release of the 2018 vintage may occur as early as next year (2020) and can’t wait to share it. If you’re not already on our mailing list and want to be notified, you can sign up here. Thanks for taking the time — hope your fall is warm.