Work sessions were punctuated with wine or champagne breaks, a sure way to rest our tired backs and indulge in the very products that we hoped to someday produce.
Future Hubby Nugget skillfully wielded the chainsaw while I demonstrated my OCD tendencies in stacking the fallen brush.
Grapevines were planted, several varieties that we hoped could tolerate the cold Midwestern winters and dry, humid summers: Frontenac, Vignoles, Norton, Chardonelle, Chamborcin, Foche. We even created a mnemonic to remember: (F)abulous (V)ines, (N)ot (C)rappy (C)oncord (F)uckers (no offense to you Concord growers out there, really, we're not haters).
A couple of summers have gone by since then, and grapevines have been pruned, trained, nurtured and even eaten by local wildlife. We've experienced poison ivy outbreaks, chigger attacks, territorial wasps, and best of all, breathtaking nature:
The tubes are supposed to encourage growth so that they can reach the trellising.
But I'm not so sure that we haven't just created a massive deer buffet.
Time will tell, I guess.
All for now,