Himself and I have been walking further through the vines. HImself has been cycling of late as previously reported and has discovered new tracks to explore. Well, motion is lotion, as they say so we have been striding out, camera at the ready to report what we find.
We found Monsieur Joseph. Here he is in his vineyards at the lower part of the village, cutting back the excess growth on his vines. He doesn’t know it, but I borrowed his name for a character in one of my stories. However, Monsieur Joseph is quite a character himself.
In his eighties now, Joseph came from Spain with his wife to start a new life. His daughter moved to England and now teaches in a Manchester school. We are delighted to know the whole family. Every summer we meet for drinks and food and for the local fiestas. Joseph likes to enjoy himself and still dances a mean foxtrot.
The weather remains very changeable. Here’s why.
There is STILL snow on the peaks of the Pyrenees. The shifts in temeperature are unusual this year. We’ve had cold night blasts at 5 degrees rising to 26 degrees in the afternoon. Now we learn there’s heavy rain forecast. These are the spring storms we expect in April, not now it’s nearly June.
When the wind drops, the growers are out with their spraying equipment again. This morning there was gridlock at the water pump where a queue waited to top up the tanks.
It was cold enough for top coats at 8am.
We’re all wondering when the real summer is going to arrive.
But, the countryside views are stunning. I’ve never seen it look so green. There’s actually grass growing in the verges. Green grass.
There are twenty growers in our village who send their crops to the wine cooperative – the Vigneron near the centre. They grow a variety of grapes and our Fleurs de Montblanc wines are loved by all who taste them. As well as the coopertive growers, there are four separate domains who produce and bottle their own labels. In the photograph above, Domain Prunelle benefits from its sheltered slopes.
And so, what about our Mademoiselle Merlot? How is she doing? See for yourself:
She’s in a spot that’s fairly sheltered from the worst of the winds here. So, I’d say she’s looking pretty damned good. Look at the close up where the baby grapes are forming.
Walking through this beautiful wine-growing country is a real pleasure. And the best pleasure is yet to come: chilled Cinsault in a dewy glass with some savoury nibblies. Or, gently warmed by next winter’s log fire, our Merlot – a Languedoc ruby – precious as blood.
Vine watching has made me notice things more. By paying particular attention to what’s happening in the vines, it’s as if my eyes have been opened to much more besides. I’m seeing flowers and wildlife I never noticed before. The mountains around us change with the light. Sometimes they completely disappear into a blue haze. At other times, when they are backlit, they seem close enough to touch. The rest of me is becoming more attuned to my surroundings, too. I can feel shifts in the weather; sense changes in pressure. I can tell with my eyes closed when there’s a storm on the way. And, hey, I must be benefitting from all that extra walking I’m doing up hill and down dale.
The weather is peculiar this year. Although we’ve had days warm enough to wear flip flops and a few evenings warm enough to eat outdoors and do a spot of GaryWatching, spring has stayed generally much cooler than usual. Also, we’ve had more rain. As a result, weeds and grasses are growing to monster proportions. There’s more work in the vineyards.
Weeds love the weather we’ve been having: cooler, damper. They’re not welcome. They have to go. Out come the tractors again, towing their little rotavators. In the picture above, note the air-condtioning unit on top of the cab. When this grower’s grandfather tended the vines, he wouldn’t have had such a luxury on his horse and cart!
Drivers have to swing out into the lanes to make their turn for the next row. Where there is no lane to use, the turn is too sharp and the pattern of work shifts to tilling alternate rows. In places where it’s narrower still, they work every third row, backwards and forwards through the vineyard till it’s all done.
Then you get a clear picture of those familiar stripes running through the land.
Our Mademoiselle Merlot is now quite a lady. Here she is in close up, showing healthy babies on the way.
High winds this last week have caused some damage to the vines on the outer rows where the stalks have been snapped clean away from the branch. But our baby is looking fine and has come through the gales in good condition.
Rainstorms always come to this part of France in early spring at the transition between cool weather and the powerful heat of summer, but this year it’s happened later.
There is STILL snow on top of Canigou and until it’s gone we can expect more cool winds. However, the vineyards look good to me.
The hill in the far distance is Mont St. Loup which overlooks Cap d’Agde, a popular holiday resort with French families. Every water sport you can think of is there. In July and August Cap d’Agde is as packed with people as our vineyards are full of grapes. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but you get the picture.
As for the Chardonnay vineyard which, you remember is across the lane. Here’s this morning’s photo.
I was standing in my usual spot to take this picture. It’s only a matter of weeks since I said that in a short time you wouldn’t be able to see through the foliage to the earth between the rows. The contrast is remarkable.
I’ll keep watching to see what the growers do about all that whippy growth. My feeling is most of it will be cut back.
More vines further along this morning’s vineyard walk. There are so many lanes criss-crossing through the vineyards, you can take a different walk every day and catch different views of the countryside. Sometimes, something unexpected happens, like the day I saw the perfect circle drawn in the sky by a fighter jet.
This morning’s surprise was a solitary figure hand-hoeing between the vines. My camera is always ready so I asked him for permission to take his picture. When he learned I was going to put him on the internet, he was happy to oblige.
Between each vine, this wine grower is using the space to grow broad beans. I hadn’t seen this before. Whether there is mutual benefit to beans and grapes I couldn’t say. My French isn’t good enough to understand everything he was saying and his French sounded Spanish. Many of the growers in our departement of Herault came from Spain to find work and settled here. They speak French, but with Spanish intonation. It’s lovely, but difficult for me to follow.
He insisted we took some beans. They’ll be fantastic lightly steamed and with a knob of butter on top.
I hope you’re enjoying this weekly catch up with what’s happening in the vineyards near my home. I’m certainly enjoying putting it together. I’d like to say thank you for visiting my website. Do please leave a comment if you wish and don’t forget to sign up for news of new posts.
Cheers!
Celia
P.S. Due to computer problems, I’m posting this week’s report early, while my machine is up and running. It keeps turning itself off. The poor old girl is due for retirement.
It’s just six weeks since I began the Wednesday Vine report. The vineyards look completely different from that first day. In pictures from Vine Report number one, we were looking for the first signs of sprouting buds. Today, you can hardly see the earth between rows of lush, green growth.
I’ve seen the winegrowers out in the vines spraying again. We’ve had overnight rains, too, and everything is growing like the clappers, including, of course, all the weeds. I’ve never seen thistles so high or so many poppies popping up everywhere.
The wind is sometimes still quite cool. There’s still snow atop the Pyrenees so if the wind’s coming from that direction, it’s like having nature’s air-conditioning system on. Or standing by the chiller cabinets in the supermarket.
We’re all keeping an eye on the weather. It’s been an unusual spring so far. Very changeable. Temperatures playing yo-yo. The forecast from Thursday is not so good.
We don’t want those storms wandering our way. Heavy rain or the possibility of hail would not be welcome here. The baby grapes are setting on their stalks. Hail and heavy rain now would damage them. This year, everything seems to be at least three weeks behind its usual pace of development and that late snow on Canigou might have delighted skiers, but is causing headaches down here.
These babies really have all the water they need. The water table is high. Drainage ditches are still running with water that leaks from the land and is channeled down the hills toward the run-offs.
What’s required now is a bit less wind and warm, warm sun, building up to hot, hot sun for juicy fat fruit.
Mademoiselle Merlot is romping along the support wires. She’s got a lot of frilly, fresh green on her skirts and is looking really quite playful. Doing a line dance!
Here she is below, taking centre stage in this photograph, almost unrecognisable from the picture on the left on Day One. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, that an old gnarled, knobbly bit of a stick like that can turn into a vibrant plant with such abundant, verdant growth?
But that’s not the best bit, is it? The fruits that come along later go into the finest wine, able to grace the most discerning table.
Across the lane in the Chardonnay vineyard, the vines are still leading the race as you’d expect. They look as though they are enjoying the cooler conditions this spring. Their side of the hill is turning completely green.
I can’t imagine I would ever tire of looking at this place where I’m lucky to live. I love it in all its seasons. We don’t have an extravagant lifestyle, but this beautiful country offers riches beyond what money can buy.
The lanes through the vineyards cross vistas so stunning they take your breath away.
Pyracantha hedges are full of blossom now and loud with the humming of bees. The sky is such a perfect blue it looks unreal. Look closer into the blossom where the buzzing noise is coming from.
These Pyracantha hedges are great for wildlife. In spring they’re full of bees and in autumn they’re full of birds eating the orange berries. What a fabulous system. We should do all we can to support the natural way of doing things.
That’s it for this week. I’ll leave you with a couple more pictures of our walk through the vines.
You can see the Montagnes Noir in the background.
I found these California poppies growing wild in a patch of scrubland. Their bright orange contrasts well with the surrounding green. I think I might crop this image and use it for one of my random headers.
There are so many butterflies as you walk through the heath, it seems the air is filled with them as if you’d just walked into a Disney cartoon. Ah well, it’s appropriate. Sometimes I do feel like Mary Poppins – there’s so much magic going on all around.
And here’s where it culminates – one of these every day and you could be like the French, who despite their love of pastries and dairy have the lowest incidence of heart problems in all Europe.
I don’t want to miss out anything important from my Vine Reports. Sometimes, there are things happening in the vines that I’d miss if I waited for Wednesday. That’s why on Sunday morning when I heard engines and activity at first light I was up out of bed and rushing out the door camera in hand. This is what was going on:
Wine growers spray the crops with a copper sulphate mixture to prevent powdery mildew, a fungus that can affect grapes and decimate harvests. At the brow of the hill, there’s an old-fashioned water pump. Due to our location close to mountains and river gorges, our aquifers can be quite high after heavy spring rain. Water races toward the villages in the foothills. Drainage ditches fill with fresh water, rich in minerals.
The wine growers add water to their tanks of copper sulphate to make the right mixture. It’s like what we common or garden growers would call Bordeaux mixture. Professor of botany Pierre Millardet of the university of Bordeaux discovered in the late 1800s that a mixture of copper sulphate and lime had fungicidal properties.
I like these cute little tractors. They remind me of some of the picture books I used to read with my children. Working machines all had sweet little faces and going out to work physically hard looked such jolly good fun children wanted to do it when they grew up.
I can still remember some of the words of favourite Ladybird books. Weren’t they wonderful illustrations too? Oh, shouldn’t all children have those to look at when they’re little? And aren’t the originals just the best, or am I just feeling my age?
Who could ever forget . . .Little Tommy, Ginger’s neighbour called for Ginger every day. Took him out in wind and sunshine, out across the fields to play . . .
I’d better stop. I’m filling up!
Back to the vineyards. The tractors might be cutesy looking things but they work hard, out in the wind and sunshine, out across the fields to . . . work the vines, clear the rows, protect the grapes from powdery mildew.
Here’s how the Merlot vineyard looked on Sunday morning. I was waiting for this morning for the up to date close-up.
The sun was in exactly the wrong place for this early morning photograph of our vineyard of Merlot grapes. Our Mademoiselle is in there, front row, doing very nicely.
Spraying takes place every 6 to 10 days, depending on the temperature and humidity etc., but according to one wine grower, you can cease spraying once the grapes are set. I suppose they all have their preferred methods based on what their fathers and grandfathers did before. They probably still argue over which method is best.
Wine growers are always first to gather at the Bar in the village centre. You can see them having their early morning coffee and pastis before they return to work. Their faces are lined by the sun; their hands gnarled by the wind. They look like their own vines.
So here she is, our Mademoiselle Merlot. She’s looking perky this morning, wouldn’t you say? The sun is already casting shadows and I’m out here in the vineyards by myself. Soon there’ll be dog walkers and a few serious runners. As summer progresses, they’ll be out earlier before it gets too hot.
And now, Mr de Mille, I’m ready for my close-up.
Aww! Baby grapes! Oh-la-la, Mademoiselle. You are soooo beautiful. Hold it right there. Don’t flutter a leaf. Let me drink you in.
Not yet, Celia. Don’t get carried away. This is the Vine Report not a cheesy chapter in second rate erotica. Pull yourself together. What’s happening in the Chardonnay vineyard?
My sister called him Gary. We go in for a bit of alliteration where we’re from. He could be a Georgina for all we know, but Gary presented as a good Cinsault-fuelled suggestion one evening last summer and the name stuck as fast as Gary’s suckered feet. (Clue #1)
The way Gary and his ilk are able to hang on to vertical surfaces, not to mention feel comfortable hanging on completely upside down has interested scientists for years. Only recently have they invented a new glue that mimics the properties of our Gary’s feet. Apparently this new glue is so strong you’ll be able to stick a 42 inch screen television straight onto your living room wall.
Last year, Gary became part of our late night entertainment. We’d watch, in awe, as he lassoed his supper. We’d wonder how in hell he could move that fast and jump out from a perpendicular position without falling off the wall. (Clue #2)
If you followed the previous link, you’ll know who Gary is now if you hadn’t worked it out already. You didn’t really need those clues, did you? He’s the type of his species that like hanging around (Ha, Ha) people and houses. Gary made his summer home behind one of our French window shutters. We don’t know where he goes in winter. We had a very strong feeling he would survive those snows we had in January. He’d got big. Very big. He must be reaching his full size. Maybe this summer could be his last.
So, there I was after dinner last night wondering when he’d show up again this year.
The night was warm. Ten pm and still 25 degrees. The signs were good. I saw bats zipping about beyond our garden gate; a Scops owl was hooping in the distance. I call them submarine birds: their call reminds me of WW2 movies set in a sub with that tooting noise going on in the background. Here, have a listen. You’ll see what I mean.
It was time. I got out the special equipment.
I put it in the waiting for Gary area, directly below his favourite roof space where the outdoor lights attract fat moths for his main course and a selection of juicy six-legged appetizers for hors d’oeuvres.
My camera was charged and ready.
I sipped at my special equipment. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement. I looked up at the lights. What was that dark shape?
There was movement all right. From both ends of the terrace. Two small ones, but when I moved they disappeared behind the roof beams. I waited. Gary is not going to like bandits on his patch, I thought. I ran out of special equipment. Took the offered refill from himself who was watching television.
Gary’s not coming, said himself. Not tonight. Why don’t you come indoors and watch the news?
I went indoors to watch the news. I sat. Himself was staring out the window at the light on the wall opposite the one in the photograph.
WTF? Is THAT Gary? Can’t be. It’s GODZILLA!
Too late. My camera isn’t out of its case before he’s disappeared. Probably sorting out the two invaders. Next time I’ll wait longer and double up on the special equipment.
Vine report number five already. I can’t believe 5 weeks have passed since I began wondering what kind of grape our chosen vine was.
We know now: she’s a Merlot, and our baby is doing just fine. After rain through the week, our vine is showing vigorous growth.
There’s growth all along the leader in this midweek photograph. Here’s this morning’s picture.
Her sisters are doing nicely, too. Soon there’ll be more green than the brown of the earth.
Once these beauties get going, you can almost hear them growing. (I’m a writer, prone to fanciful thinking)
We’ve had a substantial amount of rain this week. The air cooled. There was fresh snow on the Pyrenees at the weekend, I’m told. Friends of friends couldn’t drive where they were supposed to be; they had no snow chains with them. When the wind blows from the southwest, over the peaks of the mountains, it cools everything down on our side. I had to rummage in my clothes storage boxes and drag out a couple of fleeces. We don’t expect cold winds at this time of year. But the walk through the vineyards is as lovely as ever and, even if you can’t actually hear the vines growing, you can smell the fresh green of them.
Across the lane, in the Chardonnay plantation, here’s the latest:
Don’t they look fantastic? Oh, I’m imagining paella cooked on our outside gas burner in one of those huge circular shallow pans; the sounds of bubbling juices; the smell of mussels and saffron and prawns, maybe a few scallops and some chicken on the bone for extra juiciness AND dewy glasses of chilled Chardonnay, crisp and dry and definitely more-ish. Summer heaven.
I walked a different way back to the house. There are so many lanes criss-crossing the vineyard plantations, you can vary your route every day. You get to see a different view each time you turn a corner. I took this picture of poppies planning to use it as a header. All the pictures at the head of my pages are from my own photographs.
Last week, I spotted drifts of blue flowers on furry, mauve stalks and couldn’t put a name to them.
It’s borage and you can eat it. The flowers and stalks taste like cucumber and the darker leaves can be cooked and used like spinach. You can find out more about edible wild flowers here at the Edible Wild Food website.
Himself was with me this morning. Fancies himself as a bit of a David Bailey from time to time. He took these:
I think the boy done good.
Along the lanes, there’s always something new to see. Almond trees are showing off their new fruits in their furry cases. They are very bitter, though. I don’t know anybody who actually uses them.
The vineyards roll across this Herault hinterland. From above it looks like patchwork with all the rows going in different directions like stripes. Some vineyards have sea views.
At Pinet, not far from our own village, the vineyards run down to the Mediterranean coast.In this picture, you can make out the oyster beds in the bay. Oysters and white wine: is your mouth watering yet? Wait, there’s more.
The white wine of Pinet is one of only three varieties used by the manufacturers of Noilly Prat, a world famous vermouth produced at Marseillan also nearby. Marseillan is now the only place producing this fabulous vermouth. No, it’s better than fabulous. It’s the best vermouth you’ll ever taste. There’s a great story behind the making of this famous aperitif, but there’s enough for a whole new post. In the meantime, take a look at their website. It has a cute entry page, but they won’t give away any production secrets.
Back to our own village vineyards. Because of the lie of the land, the vineyard lanes are sometimes below the level of the growing fields. Great camera angles.
Elsewhere there are new plantations. The baby vines are protected from the ravages of winter winds.
Young vines are not allowed to produce fruit for the first year or two. The vine’s job is to get itself established with a strong root system and build up nutrients for grape producing when it’s a grown-up. The wine grower keeps the vineyard free from weeds and pests during this time to give the young vines the best start.
Soon, these young vines will take their place in producing grapes that go into wine known and respected all over the world. Did you know that Languedoc is the biggest wine producing region in the world? Ah, what a place to live, huh? The pleasures of watching it grow, followed by the pleasures of drinking it.
Don’t forget to add your email and subscribe so you don’t miss new posts. The FOLLOW CELIA box is at the top of the page. Your email address is kept private. You can click on the Twitter button too to give me an extra mention.
I’d love to hear from you. I’m not an expert on wine, but you don’t have to be an expert to know what you enjoy. That’s my philosophy.
Well, of course she would have to be a Merlot, wouldn’t she? My all-time favourite red. Sensational perfume. Smooth, satisfying taste. Hits all the right notes. A symphony in a glass. Great legs. She’s a late developer. Bless.
Here’s what she looks like today.
Look above and slightly left of the central bole and there you’ll find the first leaf ready to unfurl. April 17th. You heard it here first. You could be looking at the next gold medallion winner.
Our wines from this region often rate very highly at the French nationals. And it’s not just the reds. The Viognier from Domaine La Baume just down the road from here came in at 13.5% and took gold last year. That was one belter of a white wine. Well, it would be at that strength, n’est-ce pas? Click on the link and take a look at their website (in English). Learn why they harvest at night. Watch the video for a brief introduction to their domaine. We always take all our visitors there for wine-tasting before you buy. Nobody has ever been disappointed.
The history of the Viognier grape is interesting. It was almost extinct in the 1960s. It’s prone to powdery mildew and might not produce high yields. Picking at exactly the right time is essential to achieve the best perfumes and strength. Here in Languedoc, Viognier tastes different from that produced further north. The vines like our heat retaining soil and dry summer. Here’s the current state of play with the whites in the next field to our Merlot.
Look more closely and you can see the tiny clusters of flowers developing.
Grape flowers are so small you wonder how they can possibly develop into luscious fruits.
They are so inconspicuous you have to really look hard to find them.
But there they are, hiding underneath the leaves, quietly getting on with the business of growing beauties like these.
Mmmm. I can taste it already. Nicely chilled. Make-your-mouth-water-juicy-fruity.
That reminds me. It’s time himself dragged out the barbecue and gave it a good clean. In fact, the sun is warm enough for sun loungers. Better make that my task while himself is occupied. When he gets back from his bike ride. (Trying to shift some weight)
Cycling through the lanes is a great way to see the countryside. From the top of the hill there’s a sea view. Just. And the Pyrenees with Pic du Canigou the highest peak visible from here.
After taking this morning’s photo of my Merlot, I wandered through the gates into the cemetery. Birds were singing. There was a comfortable calm about the place. It’s always well-tended. Villagers visit their family mausoleums regularly to leave fresh flowers and messages. Everything is clean swept. Some of the mausoleums are very grand.
Outside the cemetery, Languedoc is bursting into life.Under cobalt skies, the land explodes into spring colour.
Between the vineyards, some fields are left uncultivated.
And, looking over village houses, cemetery and vineyards, our unusual water tower.
Famous with Ryanair pilots. They often point it out to passengers about to land in Beziers.
If you enjoy my posts please click the Twitter button. It gives me a mention and helps me build followers. Thank you.
I don’t get much serious writing done on Mondays. I don’t get much writing done at all. I might find a few minutes to write a short post on here, then it’s warming up the old vocal chords (and I do really mean old ) before it’s off toward the hills and rehearsals in Capestang.
The wind blows fit to knock you off your feet as you turn the corner around the church to walk to rehearsals. To the right of this picture, you can see where the building stops. Like the church was suddenly chopped. In fact, that’s exactly what happened in the 13th century. Some contributing factors may have been to do with the Plague and/or the change in the course of the river, but there’s also the story that says the Bishop in Narbonne sent out his spies to see what was happening in Capestang and when he discovered the completed church would have been bigger than his own seat, he used the money for something else.
I love these old stories. Even the smallest villages here have stories to tell. I love to hear about them, read about them. Sometimes, I might be inspired to write a new story based on what I’ve discovered. But I can’t get into that today because it’s Monday. Monday is singing. There’s no serious writing today. Serious singing instead. We’re rehearsing Carmina Burana for performances in May. O, Fortuna, velut Luna statu variabilis . . .
Singing is so vital. I can’t imagine a life without music. When I take Mondays off, away from writing, I know I’m gonna come back Tuesdays all fired up and ready to go again.
Ahem! Is that a new widget in your sidebar, Celia?
What, that old thing?
Well, it wasn’t there yesterday.
Oh, it’s just something I found lying around.
Exactly where did you find it lying around?
On Google, darling.
You mean, not actually on WordPress?
Not at first. I did try to find a new widget on the ‘search for new plug-ins’ thingummy, but it didn’t matter how I worded my query, I couldn’t find what I was looking for.
You just wanted to add pictures to the sidebar I take it?
That’s right. I tried writing ‘add pictures to the sidebar’, and ‘sidebar photo widget’ and any number of combinations of all manner of prompts, but it took Google to understand what I was asking for. And do you know what happened next?
They do it properly in Japan. People welcome tree blossom. They pack picnics and take the whole family out to sit beneath burgeoning cherries and plum trees. They really make a point of going out especially to see the blossom.
Here, in Languedoc, we have beautiful flowering trees. First, you get the almonds. They can flower any time from late January onwards. They’re about past their best now, but for several weeks they’ve powdered the lanes through the vineyards with their baby pink set against cobalt winter skies.
Then comes Mimosa. You can smell it as soon as you step outside. A photo of my neighbour’s old tree is one of the random headings I use on my website pages. (All the headers are adapted from my own photographs.)
Just outside my gate, there’s a small square full of flowering cherry. You simply HAVE to take notice of them. If you don’t, you’ll miss the display. The Tramontane will get up, blowing over the Pyrenees, bringing with it sharp blasts of icy air from still snow-covered peaks.
By the time the Tramontane has rushed over the top of these peaks, it stabs you like ice-cold daggers. It blows in threes, the locals tell you. If the wind goes into a fourth day, you can guarantee there’ll be six.
Or the Marin will blow you a hooley from the Mediterranean and there will be mist and more rain than you thought the sky could hold. At the end of it, there’ll be no blossom left to admire.
Beautiful things are often fleeting, so I’m glad I made the small effort of standing outside my garden gate to take this picture while the blossom is at its best.