Planting a Vineyard Part 23: Various Thoughts of a Winemaker

A month passes, time slipping away like a whip, but at a different pace, with a different flavor, as if the world had been divided into a period before and after planting. The moment of planting itself was euphoric.

After almost a year of preparation, the dream came true, bread became flesh. However, the finale of one opera already conceals within it the overture to the next.

We have one hundred and thirteen rows in the vineyard. I live and breathe these rows; they haunt my dreams at night, and they accompany me during the day, in my subconscious. I sat down and calculated that if I walked along each one, I would cover thirteen kilometers, alternating up and downhill.

The rows are different; some are longer, others are shorter. It may seem insignificant at first glance, but in field work, as I’ve already experienced, this difference is significant. For example, when weeding, one is naturally drawn to the shorter ones because the end is tangible, almost within reach. Longer rows, on the other hand, become a necessary evil; it’s best to do it now and get it over with, or stay away from them altogether.

I’ve also found myself sometimes more inclined to start with the ones closer to the main gate, where I park my car. With each subsequent step, my enthusiasm wanes. It’s as if the first rows had their own identity, while the subsequent ones gradually sank into anonymity. And yet, all rows must be cared for equally, like children; you can’t favor one over another, because then they’ll resent it. So, to avoid temptation with the ones closer to the road, I decided to start with the last row, “starting” everything from the end.