Blog

Enquiry today about our organics. Yes – we are certified organic at our Redbank and Alex vineyards, which makes us only the second of two (after Kawerau) in Central.

We believe we are one of only 13 in New Zealand, although we could stand to be corrected on that one.

What’s a man to do when faced  with worldwide financial meltdown,  the collapse of impending productions and disastrous crop losses in the vineyard?

The answer of course is obvious. Go fishing!

After a fortifying breakfast of porridge the Proprietor took himself off to the River Mumblemumble with allies P. Baxter and R. Tompkins.

Not many fish, but all major ones. The Proprietor, almost choking on his modesty, will reluctantly admit to lucking onto the catch  du jour. This monster was unweighted, but estimates range from 7 lbs (S.N.) to 7 ½ lbs (P.B.) to 8 ½ lbs (R.T.) You decide.

All released of course.

Alarm and despondency has spread as a result of last  night’s calamity.

Some cool heads are still to be found, however – notably Fire, who has seen many dark days come and go in her time.

Here the chickens have come to Fire for comfort and advice, which she is happy to dispense. Ruffled feathers are smoothed again.

Not a date any of us want to remember. Last night a particularly vicious frost took to us with a vengeance. As a result we have lost about half our beloved crop, despite our valiant attempts to frost-fight. “Bugger!” you could fairly say.

Richard in foulest of moods. Mike looking shell shocked. The Proprietor weeping like a girl. Rest of staff, horrified of the sight of grown men cry are looking anywhere but.  Oh dear.

Our friend Daryl has left us to go back to the trucks at Fulton Hogan. Thanks Dazza and hooroo.

His place has been taken by Bob McSkimming, Dunedin man and ex-accountant. We are somewhat overawed by Bob’s qualifications  and are ready to admit he’s the closest thing we have to a brain on the place.

As a result there are some long pauses at smoke while we all try to think of something intelligent to say to Bob. After a particularly painful silence yesterday, the Proprietor-smart-arsed as usual – blurted out “Okay  Bob, what’s the square root of 5,7618.05?”

To our astonishment Bob know the answer. None of us, however, can  remember what is was.

How about a portrait of goat and goaty friend?

Complaints have been heard that the blog has been a bit quiet lately.

Okay - how about Portrait of a Dog. Beautiful, Non?

Our truck is not only beautiful, but functional as well. Here Georgia looks pleased to be off to kindy in the old girl, but at 4 years needs (for now) a driver.

Big Boy, our resident cock, has moved on to the Great Coop in the Sky, God rest him. His place has been taken by a splendid, if somewhat Gallic, chap who has made the chook run and indeed the entire farm his own (our chickens live lives of giddy freedom – free range would be an understatement)

He is called “Sportif”, a little nod to French rugby (as in “Le Coq Sportif”). Whether or not he’s into eye-gouging etc, we are not game to try. Anyway… he looks the part.

The thing about the business of wine is that it so regularly manages to blend professional duties and outrageous pleasure with effortless grace. Last weekend Dean, Mark and Richard held a vertical tasting of our top Pinots from 2001 – 2007, mainly to see how they were all holding up.

Twelve wines and seven vintages.

Conclusions: 

• All wines cellaring and holding up well.
• All wines critically good that age well.

Picks:

• 2002 Last Chance Pinot Noir
• 2005 Two Paddocks Pinot Noir
• 2006 Two Paddocks Pinot Noir
• 2006 First Paddock Pinot Noir
• 2007 First Paddock Pinot Noir

All up, the boys well pleased with themselves, and good time had by all!

We say farewell to our two rams Mel Gibbston and Jimmy Baahns, who gave honourable service for two seasons, in spite of the ’07 fiasco (See last year's blog). And no – they are not going where you think, but are off to lighter duties at another South Suffolk flock – total 8 ewes. No chance of a hernia there.

Pictured: Here are the boys on their last day at Redbank.