Living in the Napa Valley is like being invited to feast your senses at one of the finest gastronomical destinations in the world. Our enthusiasm as locals for the vineyards, restaurants, spas, country lanes, and scenic vistas is balanced by the rhythm of an agricultural heritage. We feel the tug of stewardship for all we experience today, and walk the fence line between evolution and historical preservation.

Something about the beauty of the valley and its’ people feeds a sort of optimism in your soul, and every spring the vineyards create a fresh visual dose of redemption. All is forgotten as the rain subsides, spring approaches, and pruning begins. The cutting away of last years’ successes and failures, to make way for the next run up the mountain. It is not a sense of dread we arise with to tend to our crops, but a child-like Christmas morning zeal. There is something revitalizing about being in the midst of all of this potential and promise, like taking the waters of a sacred pool or kneeling in a temple high in the mountains. The common experience of removing our crop from the protection of the canopy and exposing it to the harsh critics of the outside world creates a profound effect to the sense of community and fellowship through out the Valley.

We are in a stage of our evolution where the voices in the media have as much influence as the voices in the vineyard. When marketing makes decisions over winemaking the connection to the vineyard becomes confused. But, as we all have learned who offer their opinions loudly and often, an abuse of influence ultimately leads to a complete lack of credibility. The relationship between business and artistry is the question we set out to answer every vintage. Some answer with the quest for perfection, others are satisfied to slake the thirst of a nation. But, art does not respond, it commands, it challenges, and to stay vigilant against the forces of mediocrity, we strive to stay lean and hungry. Not so easily done when we are surrounded by the sirens calling out to us from the rocky shores of another epic dining experience. How are we supposed to stay hungry and vigilant against Lobster Risotto and Tomato Soup with Puff Pastry? But hunger is exactly what we strive to achieve in the vineyards.

The vine’s life is one of wanting. Wanting more water, wanting richer soil, wanting to produce more fruit, wanting to grow huge canopy’s of green leaves. But we hold it back, hold it down, restrict its’ growth, keep it humble. With no other distractions the vine is free to focus in a Zen-like state upon the only task receiving encouragement; ripening fruit. The vines’ fill those little vessels with the sum of all knowledge and experience, and the ability to translate the flow of influences from Man and Mother Nature into a mélange of flavors, aromas, and colors. We have the ability to elevate an agricultural endeavor into the rare air of creative expression. Like the Shaman of old, we have a few who can listen to what the Earth is telling them, and mediate a mutually beneficial agreement between the factions of appellation specific weather patterns and the grapes on the vine. The endless fascination is derived from the ability to experiment with all facets of the process and explore an array of creations for your senses to evaluate. Good or bad, you have the connection to every thing you do in the vineyards and in the cellar. A balance between natural influences and nurturing influences creates opportunity with every vintage. People can go through entire lifetimes and never get the sense that they have connected with the inner voice of creativity clamoring to be set free. They never get the blank canvas to destroy.

There is a feeling of security this cozy little valley imparts upon its’ residents, tucked away from the maddening crowds, surrounded by the natural bounty. The Indians felt it, the Spaniards felt it, the Silver miners felt it, and the ranchers and farmers of today are striving to preserve it. We feel protected by the mountains as they clutch the Valley into their bosom, shielding us from the costal rains, and cold wet Pacific winds. They create a resting spot for rain storms to linger for a bit before heading east towards the desert and certain doom. A haven exists for the wildlife to live in and amongst the men and machines, surrounded by forests, rivers, lakes, and mountains.

We live the Provencal life with bread bakers, butchers, produce farmers, cheese makers, fishermen, ranchers, all shamelessly fraternizing with local restaurants and farmer’s markets, succeeding endlessly to grow the best of their heritage in fields of historical bounty. To break bread in the Valley, is to share a moment in time with new and old friends. The life here chooses you, you do not choose it, and when it calls, you must go to it, or be left in a cubicle wondering why you feel so unfulfilled.