At dawn, on this day rumored to be our last on earth, the vineyard was shrouded in dense fog.

As I stood outside the wine barn and faced east toward the vines, the sun – almost unexpectedly – rose quickly and flooded the world around me with light.  The fog then dissipated before my eyes, leaving only traces of vapor rising from the rain-soaked fence and trellis posts.  Spring, in my mind anyway, was finally here.

That is not to say there haven’t been other signs:  the crocus and tulips have given way to heirloom iris in the cottage garden, as seen below, and the grape vines awoke in April with a burst of green.  Even the spring rites of Little League, First Holy Communion, and hay fever are upon us.

Heirloom Iris

But I hadn’t fully embraced spring until first light this morning.  Perhaps this explains the three-month silence since our last Mount Salem dispatch:  I’ve been waiting, and waiting, for spring.  But I can wait no longer, come hell or high water.

Perhaps you’ve heard the phrase, “…a well-drained vineyard…”  Well, our vineyard is draining like Niagara Falls today.

Two months of accumulated snow, ice and frosted soil are thawing big time, sheeting down the southwest-facing slope of the vineyard toward the Raritan River and finally the Atlantic Ocean, where it will evaporate into the atmosphere and then fall again as rain and snow, completing Nature’s miraculous cycle.

As I write this, it is 64F in the shade and easily 70F in the direct sunlight up in the vineyard, where the pruning crew has gone from wearing snow boots with gaiters and winter hats on Monday, to bare skin and sunglasses today.  This, of course, is why Agnieszka, our Vineyard Master, has such an awesome tan by summer’s end:  she starts working on it in February.

We know, of course, that this is just a tease, as February owes us two more weeks and March can deliver a winter wallop itself.  But as we finish pruning the Riesling vines today, I can almost smell the ripe yellow grapes that will hang in this very spot next autumn, soaking up the fading sunlight of 2011 just before harvest.

Perhaps you’ve heard the phrase, “…a well-drained vineyard…”  Well, our vineyard is draining like Niagara Falls today.

Two months of accumulated snow, ice and frosted soil are thawing big time, sheeting down the southwest-facing slope of the vineyard toward the Raritan River and finally the Atlantic Ocean, where it will evaporate into the atmosphere and then fall again as rain and snow, completing Nature’s miraculous cycle.

As I write this, it is 64F in the shade and easily 70F in the direct sunlight up in the vineyard, where the pruning crew has gone from wearing snow boots with gaiters and winter hats on Monday, to bare skin and sunglasses today.  This, of course, is why Agnieszka, our Vineyard Master, has such an awesome tan by summer’s end:  she starts working on it in February.

We know, of course, that this is just a tease, as February owes us two more weeks and March can deliver a winter wallop itself.  But as we finish pruning the Riesling vines today, I can almost smell the ripe yellow grapes that will hang in this very spot next autumn, soaking up the fading sunlight of 2011 just before harvest.

It is no wonder candles fill our lives in December, guiding us through darkness and into the light of the New Year.  They lift our spirits and warm our hearts, offering hope when we need it most, even on cold and grey days in December.

But we needn’t rely on candles alone.  Nights are indeed long, but brilliant sunlight can be seen even on the shortest day of the year, as it was in 2009 when I took the photo below.

Vineyard in Winter

With a dawning new year we start fresh, first with pruning in January (perhaps on the Feast of Saint Vincent, the patron of winegrowers, still honored in Burgundy) and culminating, as we are now in December, with new wine gestating quietly in barrels.

This past year, our sixth, was our largest and no doubt best vintage.  Growing conditions were excellent, and we had further good fortune to reach two milestones:

• Licensure of Mount Salem Vineyards, and
• Restoration of our 1811 barn that is now our winery.

On behalf of our entire family, I wish you a most peaceful and joyous holiday season and a wonderful and bright New Year in 2011.