It’s my Vineyard

Meanwhile in Beaujolais the landscape is a thick lush carpet of green, the growth has been amazing since we were here last, upwards and outwards, so it is difficult to determine where the tiny paths are between the vines.

The miniscule yellowy green flowers have almost been and gone, and remember it is the saying that one hundred days are counted from their first appearance to the grapes being ready for gathering, that time of intense activity throughout the region, to pick the fruit by hand and turn them into the delectable heady juice, the fine Beaujolais wine.

It is not uncommon to see bold hares scurrying between the vines, occasionally stopping, ears pricked, looking around as if they might have forgotten something or late for an appointment and wondering which is the quickest route to follow.
I protect my vegetable garden from these delightful creatures who, in passing may be tempted by a juicy lettuce or a beetroot top!

There is great tractor activity, to clip, with flymo type mechanisms ‘rogneuse’ in french ,the long thin shoots of new growth that appear almost overnight. This can also be done by hand, the vigneron walking between the vines and deftly wielding a whip or antenae like wires, flicking to and fro. There will be minimal spraying of products, only what is essential, and if there is rain when the fruit start to form we must protect against mildew to ensure an excellent harvest.

The days are long and sunny and almost unbearably hot, and I look forward to a stroll in the evening cool and enjoy the quiet and beautifully peaceful scenery.
I listen to the church clock sound and am always surprised at the night sounds, the busy crickets a croaking toad and birds that do not seem to want to sleep.