We had a freeze this morning. I got a 29 degree measurement in the vineyard with a house thermometer. Opossum Hollow had a 24 degree low. The car reported 31 in the driveway and 35 on Chalk Mountain.
Considering all these measurements, the vineyard air temp was probably around 31. The lower temperature readings were due to exposure to the sky.
About 3/4 of the vines are now in the 'toasted leaf' stage. Surprisingly, the other 1/4 look like they will shrug off the freeze and keep going until something more significant blows through. In one set of Bridlegate x Mourvedre, 6 vines were all toasted, but the one on the end look fine. In other cases, the vines sharing parents had about the same percentage of leaves toasted. In general, the more cordifolia in the vine, the better it's chances of surviving this morning's freeze.
Anticipating the freeze, I decided to harvest my one berry still hanging and call it a 'Texas icewine' test. There has to be a first. When actually doing it, the exercise was more practice than anything else. It really wasn't cold enough for icewine. There was frost on the grass, but the berry wasn't noticeably frozen. The brix was only 20, which was about what I would have expected without the 'freeze'. 5 or 6 hours of air temperatures in the twenties would probably freeze the groups, but I wonder how often such an event is the first significant freeze of the year?
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Hipolito's visit
By chance, Hipolito came over this morning to talk to me about grapes. Anthony, Hipolito and I had been talking before Mass a few weeks ago. Anthony told Hipolito he needed to see my vineyard. Of course, I said come over whenever you want. He had been over 10 years ago and knew where we live. This morning, he decided to visit.
Of course, I was at the office. We saw each other tonight, anyway, at the Knights meeting. Hipolito has 4 vines he is nurturing. He wanted to know how to prune them the right way. I laughed and said that nothing I do is the 'right way'. We talked for about 15 minutes.
What a great day!
Monday, October 8, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
I became interested in growing wine grapes while in high school and briefly attended UC Davis. Wine growing didn't take root, though. In 1996, my wife and I moved from Dallas to Glen Rose and I started working on our 6 acres of woods and limestone. In 2005, I planted my first set of grape vines. Within 2 years, they had all died of Pierce Disease and salty well water. At that point, I found Jack McCunn on the Texas Wine Grape Growers list and took his suggestion to stick to varieties with North American genetics. Despite his help, the spring of 2009 had a devastating late frost in April. Growing vines on the banks of the Paluxy river, where cold frosty air collect, my vines were particularly hard hit. A friend up on the ridges above me was unscathed, though. I realized I was trying to grow grapes in the world's worst location: PD pressure, salty well water and high probability of late frost damage.
A few weeks later, still rocked by the violence spring had wrought on my vineyard, my wife and I were exploring some backroads near Clairette. I happened to see a stand of cinerea in full bloom. The vines were next to a bridge over a creek and, being at the bottom of a valley, should have been wiped out like my own vines. Seeing them was a huge surprise. I realized my vineyard was a perfect spot to breed improved cinerea. All the problems would just serve to make better vines. From that point on, I've wanted to grow improved cinerea and create a great native Texas wine here in Glen Rose. The photo of me here was taken on that day. I'm standing in front of those vines. The vision I have is more than just a great wine, its a life style. Perhaps the simplest image of this lifestyle I can share is this. Imagine a 'friends and family' October grape stomp of freshly harvested Glen Rose grapes. As I write in 2012, that isn't possible. Wine grapes in North Texas ripen during the heat of August, and unless you can get it done between 6 and 7 AM, no one wants to go outside.
A few weeks later, still rocked by the violence spring had wrought on my vineyard, my wife and I were exploring some backroads near Clairette. I happened to see a stand of cinerea in full bloom. The vines were next to a bridge over a creek and, being at the bottom of a valley, should have been wiped out like my own vines. Seeing them was a huge surprise. I realized my vineyard was a perfect spot to breed improved cinerea. All the problems would just serve to make better vines. From that point on, I've wanted to grow improved cinerea and create a great native Texas wine here in Glen Rose. The photo of me here was taken on that day. I'm standing in front of those vines. The vision I have is more than just a great wine, its a life style. Perhaps the simplest image of this lifestyle I can share is this. Imagine a 'friends and family' October grape stomp of freshly harvested Glen Rose grapes. As I write in 2012, that isn't possible. Wine grapes in North Texas ripen during the heat of August, and unless you can get it done between 6 and 7 AM, no one wants to go outside.
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