That Certain Air Of Savoir Faire

This may not be the Merry Old Land of Oz, but watching the vine pruning process makes me realize that these people know a lot more about vines than those of us who simply drink the juice of their labors.

Another pine cone.

There's a couple, a man and a woman, who work for the people that own most of the vineyards behind our house. In fact, we don't know if they're actually a "couple" or whether they just work together. We always wave, exchange bonjours, and sometimes talk about the weather. They try to get Callie to come close to them, but she just runs around them.

Other-worldly lichens on a red brick.

The couple are out there nearly every day this time of year. They prune the thousands of vines back to one or two canes, one at a time, by hand, over the course of winter. They work in the cold rain; they work in the warm sunshine. They line the clippings up between the rows and will eventually use a tractor to pull a mulcher that grinds them up. Other pruners in neighboring vineyards burn the clippings as they go.

A broken tile, MADE IN FR...

Little by little the scraggly vineyard transforms into neat, clean rows. Some of the vines are pruned to a single long cane, others down to two or three short stubs. I have no idea why some vines are done one way while the others are different. In a few weeks the job will be done. Shortly after that we will start to see a slight green tint edge out the drab brown of the winter vineyard as the leaves emerge on the vines. Then we'll know that spring is really here.

Pruned and ready for leaves.

"We get up at twelve and start to work at one, take an hour for lunch and then at two we're done. Jolly good fun!"