It appears that I lost something in 2009. Something beside the five months, two weeks, three days and ten hours I spent in the hospital. I seemed to have misplaced the lion's share of my sense of humor. For despite a diligent search of the dusty attic that masquerades as my mind I could find absolutely nothing jovial about last year. Be that as it may with your indulgence I shall muddle on.

First a word of advice: Never become ill and forced to turn your business over to a son. The consequence may be more hazardous than what ails you. Before last March Keith, for example, made the wine, handled winery sales, managed his vineyard and, generally, saw to it that I didn't make too many mistakes with my vineyard. Conversely, I kept the books, administered the outside sales, worked the crush and tended to my vineyard. It was an effective modus operandi. Suddenly all of that changed with my admission to the hospital with pneumonia. Keith was unexpectedly thrust into the catbird seat and the subsequent stress was plainly evident. He had the haggard and weary look of a marathon runner still dawdling along an hour after the winner had crossed the finish line. Every time I saw him I couldn't escape the notion that he belonged in the hospital bed and I should've been the one holding the milk shake. It wasn't long, however, before I detected a subtle change in comportment. His steps were a tad lighter and a hint of smile gathered on his lips. Sales, he informed me, were up two percent. "An aberration," I offered "You think?"  he replied. My astute observation became problematic on his next visit. Sales had climbed to four percent. Three weeks later they were up five percent. And, finally, they surpassed seven percent!

I ask you what does one say to a son who takes questionable pleasure in salting the wounds of his old and ill father by alluding to the fact that he, the father, has become totally and completely redundant? The protocol is bewilderingly obscure in such matters. I was so shocked that I venture to guess that it set back my recovery by hours if not days. Besides, he cheated shamefully by purchasing another computer and having it programmed to do all of my bookkeeping chores and then enlisted the aid of his wife to oversee the outside sales. Why he saw fit to go to that kind of expense is a mystery when all he had to do was take a page from my playbook and simply purchased another abacus.

For those of you who are puzzled about my lengthy stay in the hospital for pneumonia I can only say that I am living testimony to the domino theory. It would take a medical dictionary just to spell the litany of organs that went south for the winter, one by one. Most of the errant cells and tissues have returned to their normal functions so I am reasonably well again. This recovery, I contend, was not the handiwork of the medical profession, but rather the mystical healing power of home made chicken soup!

2009 was an exceptionally good weather year for grapes. We had buckets of rain in the spring, a very hot summer and then a long mild fall. All of the grapes managed to reach Keith's sugar goals and the crop was quite heavy. The latter was not necessarily a good thing however. Like every other industry the wine business is in the doldrums. Especially the high-end wines. This didn't affect our bottled products, but it raised havoc with our bulk sales to Napa wineries. We had to leave several tons of Gewurztraminer on the vine due to economic entrenchment with White Riesling affected to a lesser degree. Only Chardonnay and Pinot Noir seemed immune to the storm.

Beginning this summer Zinfandel will replace Sangoivese on our roster of wines since the odds of the latter ripening each season is slightly better than winning the California lottery. The following year we will release an exciting new Austrian red named Lemberger or Blaufrankisch. I barrel tasted the wine recently and it's wonderful. It's a shame that a wine  so savory has such an unfortunate name, but the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau seems reluctant to consider any alternatives.

It's with deep regret I must tell you that our picking and crushing crews have become so seasoned and reliable that almost nothing goes wrong anymore. Gone are the good old days when the pickers suddenly abandon the harvest in midstream because there are no "ladies of the street" in Trinity Center. Or when our field man is caught reciting nursery rhymes to the pickers to improve their English rather than retrieving grapes. Or when a member of our crew leaves a tank valve open and dumps a few hundred gallons of wine on the concrete.  God, how I miss those days!  It not only gave me something to whine about they also provided a laugh or two. Particularly when viewed from a considerable distance and you were lucky enough to possess an irrepressible forgiving nature and the memory of a gnat.

As unfathomable as it seems this summer will mark the beginning of our 27^th year in business. We started in 1984 with volunteer crews, a five hundred gallon capacity and one pruner: Me.  Now we have paid crews, a twenty thousand gallon capacity and a seven thousand dollar pruning bill. And all it took was methodical baby steps and a wonderful band of loyal customers to whom we owe everything. Also I would be remiss if I failed to thank those who thoughtfully sent cards or came to visit me in the hospital.  You were the cat's meow!

Gratefully yours,

G. Mark Groves