As
the seasons go by: a grape grower's landmarks.
Our
work is governed by the seasons: tasks and days...
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Winter
The
arrival of winter marks the start of the grape grower's
work. The vines acquire their special golden purple colour.
The vines are calling. We must not only cultivate the
soil but also take up the shears, ready to cut. As the
wintry conditions become more severe, we warm our hands
in the dazzlingly bright flames of the little flare pots
full of vine shoots. The cellars urge us to visit and
take with us the newest wines.
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Spring
and Summer
Once
the vine shoots have been tied, the vines grow their first buds.
This is when we see their true renaissance as a "miracle of
nature" takes place, forcing us to hurry to complete the many
tasks that await us, in an unchanging pattern: cultivating the
soil, disbudding, bracketing, trimming, treating (copper, sulphur,
nettle and horsetail tisane), to be repeated depending on the
meteorological conditions, following a specific cosmic pattern.
The end of the summer is also when we bottle the wines from
last year's vintage.
Autumn
The
moment we've been waiting for, the fruit of a whole year of
hard work completely devoted to the vine.
The
grape harvest in Beblenheim
Zu
Bäwle, nâwe d'r Poscht, Dort drinkt me güter Moscht.
In Beblenheim, next to the post office, we're drinking a good
new wine.
As
the sun sets on the horizon, the wind gets up and the vegetation
takes on its special golden purple colour. It's grape harvest
time. The vine gives off the irresistible Autumn scent. In our
impatience, we must remember to cut the precious grapes. My
Father, like Kléber at the head of the Rhine army, decides which
plots of land to harvest first.
The brave little troop of grape pickers, armed with buckets
and shears, sets off for a long hard battle.
The branches, made golden by the sun, fall heavily one after
the other. At the cry of "Eimer foll", the grapes are taken
to the press.
There, the grapes offer no resistance whatsoever and the grape
grower general takes their triumphant perfumes prisoner, victorious
at the end of an arduous battle.
Drunk with victory, our glorious "Herbsterlit" savour the delicious
new wine.
Herbsterlit, I'r ben stol's of äich !
Grape pickers, I am proud of you!
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