Here I am, in the vines, pruning with my friends (who happen to be my employees). A few cotton ball clouds can’t hide the early spring sun. As ground water seeps into my “waterproof“ boots I start complaining. Or, I should say my feet start complaining. As I wiggle my cold toes I say to myself, “How many Napa Valley winemakers take the time to work and get their feet wet with the same rainwater that percolates down to eighty year old grapevines?” Vines that are no doubt happy to soak up this gift from the skies. Bingo! My toes stop complaining (and so do I)...
