The very night I wrote that last post we changed our minds. Another look at the grapes and I grew a little more nervous about the start of the rot, the weather didn’t look like it would do anything positive for the bunches and the start of a few cold nights meant the leaves had stopped being able to soak up the sunshine and shove the sugars along in the grapes. There was little to be gained and some to be lost, so eight hours after I posted that blog and after a little phone piggy-in-the-middle with Ulrich the winemaker and Trent, we decided to get up early the next morning and pick the grapes.
I had enough presence of sleepy mind to charge the battery for the camera up so we could record a few bits. I may not do this again because it has taught me three things: I have a laugh that occasionally tends towards Walter Brennan* when I’m a little over-excited; I say ‘get in’ mindnumbingly frequently when I’m a little over-excited; and I occasionally forget to tell Trent what a lazy sod he is when I’m a little over-excited.
I know…the tedious among you will have noticed that the grass needs mowing but you can’t mow near to when you pick the grapes as the clippings stick to the bunches when you put the crates on the ground: upstairs for thinking, downstairs for dancing.
The even more in-want-of-something-to-do-in-life would’ve noticed (around 8mins 30secs in) that Trent appears to have a mechanical right arm.
Ulrich emailed a couple of days later to say that the weight of the grapes was 300kg and the juice that was extracted around 200 litres. Allowing for a little to be lost along the way to bottling, we may get 250 bottles of lovely sparkling wine…but not until spring after next when the process is complete. More about each part of the winemaking process as takes place, if I don’t get distracted.
* You have to wait until the last half a second for the chuckle but don’t dodge the singing….I’d be very happy if I could sing/drink/wear a suit like Dean Martin