Or, laugh? I nearly went to Bradford if you prefer. One thing is certain if you’re going to own and run a vineyard in the far North, you’d better have a well-developed sense of humour. If I hadn’t banned myself from using the word irony, I’d be definitely rolling it out again for this vineyard blog. And we’re at the definite panic stage not preparation for as above.
After all what could be more ironic than paying about £800 to ‘rabbit net’ the vineyard* and then, in the same period, drastically reduce the number of vines that need protecting. If I hadn’t netted the rabbits would probably have moved on of their own accord. Nothing for us here chaps.
Let me explain. I mentioned that May had been cold and dry and that, as a result I guess, the vines have done very little in the way of budding and / or developing leaves. And now, after yesterday’s visit, the first one for over two weeks I think I have a possible explanation as to why this might be.
Short answer, they’re dead. If they’re not dead they’re doing a damn fine impersonation of a vine that is. So this blog is another of those writing as therapy activities. To say we were upset would be an understatement. We had been hoping that, with the weather over the last couple of weeks being hotter and wetter, we might see some progress on this visit.
Well if reaching the conclusion that a significant proportion of them have mysteriously died is progress then we’ve definitely made it. I couldn’t bear to make an accurate assessment of exactly how many had passed on to that great vineyard in the sky or even down below where it would, at least, be quite a bit warmer. So these figures are an estimate and through half closed eyes and gritted teeth at that.
I reckon 80% of our Rondo, our most mature (about 6 years) and best ‘doer’ have gone; 100% of the two year old Madeline Angevine and 10% of the Solaris. I think if things stay the same we’ll be lucky to come out with 50% of the vineyard intact. Laugh? Well, you know the rest.
What is altogether less clear is why? What has caused these vines, old and young, diseased last year and not diseased, high up in the vineyard and low down the slopes, different varieties, all have succumbed. It makes no sense at all. And that’s what really does my head in.
I nearly said I don’t mind losing the vines but that wouldn’t be true, but if I knew what had killed them at least I would feel I had a bit of control over that part of my life related to the vineyard. If one knew one could at least say well, one won’t make that mistake again. True, as I’ve said before anything to do with a vineyard is a very slow learning process because anything discovered will have to wait one year before the rightness of the judgement can be determined. That’s a long time to be in a state ranging between confusion and pain. But better than no learning at all.
Mrs Summerhouse and I have racked our tiny brains about any possible explanation/s. But, as I say no pattern emerges. The Rondo vines that got diseased last year have expired it seems, but so have varieties that didn’t. Young vines have gone but so have mature ones. The ones we pruned in a different way have suffered but so have the ones we never got round to pruning at all**. And so on.
The best we have been able to do is a) share my misery with our chum across the dale, the one who has just suffered a set-back with frost and his brand new vines and b) ring up our agronomist and make an appointment for him to visit next Wednesday. Obviously we’re hoping he can perhaps analyse what’s left and come up with some scientific explanation. At this point I’d settle for that.
Why is it that the phrase ‘following the science’ rings a little false right now? And yet this is the best we’ve got. I will ring my colleague in East Yorkshire to see if he has any theories and there are doubtless other people we could discuss the whole sorry mess with, but I can only bring myself to share this sorry tale with so many people.
I am of course hoping that by sharing the tale with you my faithful readers operating on the ‘a problem shared is a problem halved’, dictum, that things will seem a little lighter after the writing and the posting. We will see.
Funny old business running a vineyard, we escaped the frost but got clobbered by something more mysterious. Is it possible that Covid19 can spread to vines? Obviously not possible but then see the footnote 2 below, anything’s possible in the vineyard world as I’m discovering.
*The netting looks great, my man has done his usual efficient, good-looking job. Last night, just to inject a brief note of positiveness into this blog, we sat outside our summerhouse and looked out over the vineyard (from where we sat you couldn’t really see the dead ones) and the whole of the dale in the late evening sunshine and reminded ourselves how lucky we were to have these problems. Remember, it’s just a hobby, it’s fun.
**I would not have believed for a minute that badly pruning a vine could kill it. Damage it, impede its grape production, set it back a while, yes, all that I can believe. Until a story from my gamekeeper chum across the dale he of the 1,000 newly planted vines. He happens to have an uncle in Switzerland who has many hectares of commercial vineyards. He gave his son permission to alter the pruning system of 20 acres of their vines (a relatively small proportion to them but eye-wateringly large to us). Anyway the point is that, by changing their pruning methods, they killed them all off. Would not have believed it possible. Clearly I would have been mistaken in this belief.