Shoots and Spurts

Vineyard Goes Out of Control

May in the vineyard feels almost obscene in its abundance. The vines are growing so fast you swear you can catch them in the act if you stare long enough. One day the rows look disciplined. The next morning they’ve erupted — shoots stretched inches overnight, tendrils curling around wires like tiny green hands.

The leaves arrive suddenly too. Not tentative. Fully formed, oversized, theatrical. A vineyard in May doesn’t unfurl politely; it lunges toward summer.

And then the clusters. Still miniature, still hard and green, but unmistakably there now — the first draft of the vintage. You can already sense the shape of 2026 hiding inside them.

Meanwhile the floor of the vineyard is doing its own work. Crimson Clover. Rose Clover. Zorro Fescue. A cover crop that looks almost decorative until you realize it’s solving problems: suppressing invasive, pernicious weeds, holding moisture, feeding soil life.

Everything is pulling in the same direction this time of year. The vines climbing. The cover crop anchoring. The canopy expanding. The vineyard is in balance.

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