November is the month for epic vineyard photos

Something about November just hits different. Maybe it's the lower sun angles. Maybe it's the clouds. Maybe it's the fall colors. Or maybe it's that daylight savings has ended, so I'm here at the vineyard as the sun sets each day. Whatever the reason, it's a month where I find myself grabbing my camera and walking west to chase the setting sun more often than any other. I wanted to share some of my favorite photos I've gotten recently, starting with the vineyard road I usually follow out into the middle of the vineyard:

The grapevines are starting to lose their leaves, especially in low-lying areas where we've gotten a few hard freezes recently, which makes for a nice contract with the olive trees. We've been harvesting olives this week, and are seeing a bumper crop:

The blocks that do still have leaves are typically on hillsides, where the cold air can drain away. Syrah is particularly pretty at this time of year, reminding me of maple leaves from Vermont where I grew up:

Other blocks can feel downright wintery already. This Mourvedre block has already lost most of its leaves, with the exception of a few tufts of green leaf growth on the canes' tips:

The grapevines aren't the only things losing their leaves. This peach tree seems to lose all its leaves almost at once, each year:

There's a view I come back to, season after season, because I love the depth that it shows, with lines of hills receding west toward the horizon. These are Counoise vines in the front, with Syrah behind:

The live oaks don't lose their leaves, so they stand out dark against the fading light: 

I'll leave you with one more photo, a classic sunset shot, with cotton candy clouds over Grenache vines. We spend so much of the year without clouds that when they do return it's always striking:

Speaking of clouds, it's looking like we're going to get our first real rain of the year at the end of the week. Although we won't see the potentially historic results that are being predicted for the coast between the Bay Area and Portland, Oregon, it looks like we'll get an inch or so of rain. And honestly, that's perfect. It's supposed to stay unsettled after, and getting an inch of water in the ground should allow our cover crop to germinate. Getting six inches might have meant it would wash away:

Remarkable view of #BombCyclone west of Oregon & Washington and associated #AtmosphericRiver west of California this PM. Fortunately, the strongest winds will remain well offshore, but very heavy rainfall is likely across portions of northern CA into weekend. #CAwx #ORwx #WAwx

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— Daniel Swain (@weatherwest.bsky.social) November 19, 2024 at 3:46 PM

Between several frosty mornings this week and the wind and rain from the storm coming on Friday, these views will likely look dramatically different by next week. And that's fine. Autumn has been lovely. Bring on winter.

Harvest 2024 Recap: Warm Temperatures Push the Pace and Give Us an End-of-Vintage Surprise

Yesterday, with a few surprise bins of Tannat (more on that later) we completed the 2024 harvest. This was two weeks later than the first time we finished harvest, but still two weeks earlier than last year. And that's a theme for 2024: it's a lot like 2022... except when it throws a 2023-like curveball at us. But no matter when it happens, being done is a cause for celebration. 

There will be lots to remember from 2024, from us getting exciting and much-more-substantial picks off of our head-trained, dry-farmed Jewel Ridge plantings to the chance to break in new concrete fermenters in the cellar to our largest-ever (though still small) harvest of the 14th and final Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Pape grape to make it to us, Muscardin:

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start out back in the spring, where 2024 started out reminding us of 2023. At the end of May, it was just a touch warmer than 2023, and well behind what we saw in 2022. Then, after a more-or-less average June, we saw a much warmer weather pattern set in. July shattered records as the warmest month by far ever seen in California. Paso Robles was no exception. We saw 14 days over 100°F and an average high temperature of 98.5°F. And not only were the hot days hot, we never got much of a break, as just four days failed to reach the 90s. August was nearly as hot (average high temperature: 94.5°F) though we did get a little break the third week of the month. Even September (average high: 90.6°F) was as hot as many of our midsummer months have been in the past, while October began with a seven-day heat wave that saw average highs of 105°F. If that sounds unrelenting, it was. The period between July 1st and October 11th (when we finished harvest for the first time) saw average high temperatures 4.3°F higher than our long-term averages, and average low temperatures 3.4°F higher than our long-term averages. In this chart below you can see the cumulative degree day measurements for our last 10 vintages at Tablas Creek. 2024 is the dashed orange line. You can see at the end of June we were still below our long-term average. The 2024 line crosses the average in July and then accumulates heat steadily until October, when it makes another turn upward to become one of our hottest years on record (though still behind 2022):

Another way of looking at the year is going month by month compared to normal. We started the year with two months that were cooler than average and since then have had five consecutive months between 2% and 30% warmer than our averages. And remember, these are already warm months:

As you might suspect, the pace of harvest was driven by our hot weeks in early September and early October. In their aftermath, fruit came tumbling in. But because even in the interludes it was still at least warm, we see something close to a bell curve in the distribution of harvest by week. In the chart below, blue is purchased fruit for the Patelin or Lignée programs, and orange estate-grown fruit:

You may have noticed the outlier in late October, which I hinted at in my opening paragraph. That surprise consisted of four more tons of Mourvedre, Grenache, Counoise and Tannat from an unusually plentiful set of "second crop" clusters. ⁠A second crop sets in maybe a month after initial flowering in the spring. Evolutionarily, these additional berries offer vines a chance to reproduce if the primary crop gets eaten or otherwise destroyed. But for a grapegrower, it's usually not worth going back and picking these clusters, which have less sugar and are typically smaller in size. But this year was different for us because in this relatively early harvest we had plenty of good ripening weather at the end. So clusters that in a later year, or one with an earlier onset of wet weather, wouldn't have gotten ripe, got the extra hang-time they needed to get into our sweet spot.⁠
⁠
We had extra incentive to go pick this fruit because it became clear during harvest that despite our wet 2023-24 winter we were seeing lower-than-normal yields. So we decided to let the second crop hang (instead of dropping it) in case we got lucky with late-harvest-season weather. And we did!⁠ Finally, second crop clusters are generally more prevalent in blocks with higher vigor. For us, that comes from head-trained, wide-spaced blocks with extra long cane growth. Tannat produces a decent quantity of second-crop clusters every year. This year, we noticed that the young, vigorous Mourvedre, Grenache, and Counoise vines on Jewel Ridge also had enough second crop clusters to be worth revisiting. We're happy we did!⁠ The lots that we got off Jewel Ridge seem like they're sure to be some of the highlights of the year.

⁠Even with that end-of-harvest windfall, yields were down 12.7% overall off the estate vs. 2023, which is a bit disappointing given that we had our second consecutive rainy winter and dodged frosts. We also have 15 additional acres in production, which means that our yields per acre declined to 2.35 tons/acre. There are really only two other years that produced yields around 2.5 tons per acre, and they both turned out to be terrific: 2021 and 2011. So that bodes well. Diving in detail, about half of the decline from 2023 were in two grapes (Bourboulenc and Grenache Noir) that we felt that we left a bit too much crop on last year, and on which we cut back intentionally. The other half came from smaller declines from a range of grapes:

Grape	2024 Yields (tons)	2023 Yields (tons)	% Change vs. 2023
Viognier	7.9	10.1	-21.8%
Marsanne	7.9	9.0	-12.2%
Grenache Blanc	24.7	29.3	-15.7%
Picpoul Blanc	6.3	7.2	-12.6%
Vermentino	14.4	13.0	+10.8%
Bourboulenc	4.5	7.2	-37.5%
Roussanne	23.7	26.2	-9.5%
Other whites	4.4	3.2	+37.5%
Total Whites	93.8	105.2	-10.8%
Grenache	76.5	97.1	-21.2%
Syrah	47.6	41.7	+14.1%
Mourvedre	37.8	47.4	-20.3%
Tannat	14.4	15.3	-5.9%
Counoise	14.8	22.4	-33.9%
Cinsaut	3.6	3.6	+0%
Other reds	8.1	7.1	+14.1%
Total Reds	202.8	234.6	-13.6%
Total	296.6	339.8	-12.7%

2.35 tons/acre is low for us in a non-frost vintage, about 20% below our 20-year average of 3.08 tons/acre. Some of that is attributable to the higher percentage of wide-spaced, dry-farmed vineyard acres that we have in production now compared to our first couple of decades, but it's also clear to me that yields did suffer in the heat this summer. Most concerning to me are three late-ripening, low-vigor grapes: Mourvedre, Counoise, and Roussanne, that were down an aggregate 20.5% vs. 2023 despite significant new acreage coming on line from Jewel Ridge. Neil, Jordy, and I have already started talking through what we're planning to do to help rejuvenate our older blocks.

We had 131 harvest lots, an increase of two vs. 2023. These included six fewer estate lots (88 instead of 94), three more Lignée lots (7 instead of 4) and five more Patelin lots (36 vs. 31). Despite the higher number of lots, the total quantity of fruit (535.5 tons) was actually about 18% less than last year. This was mostly driven by some of our standby Patelin vineyards, particularly the ones that we rely on for whites, coming in lower in yields than we expected. In response, we reached deeper into our network than we have in years, and have a lot of little Patelin lots. Our label designers will have to get creative next year to fit all the Patelin vineyards on the back label! In the photo below of our harvest chalkboard, estate lots are in white, while purchased lots are yellow. Each line represents one pick. And yes, we finished the year using every single line on the chalkboard, a testament to Chelsea's divination skills:

The duration of harvest was 59 days, just above our 20-year average of eight weeks. But that's deceptive. If you look at the initial conclusion to harvest on October 11th rather than the day that we finished harvesting our second-crop clusters, it was only 46 days, or six and a half weeks. That would have joined 2019 and 2020 as our shortest harvest seasons of the last two decades, and is probably a better way of thinking of the pace of this year.

One other way that you can get a quick assessment of a vintage is to look at average sugars and acids. Since 2010, our average degrees Brix and pH at harvest:

Year	Avg. Sugars	Avg. pH
2010	22.68	3.51
2011	22.39	3.50
2012	22.83	3.65
2013	22.90	3.63
2014	23.18	3.59
2015	22.60	3.59
2016	22.04	3.71
2017	22.87	3.74
2018	22.80	3.62
2019	22.30	3.62
2020	22.14	3.62
2021	22.12	3.55
2022	22.14	3.70
2023	22.77	3.51
2024	22.25	3.69

Unlike the outlier that was 2023, you don't have to go very far back to see a year with numbers like 2024. 2022 offers very similar numbers, as do years like 2020 and 2016, all hot years where the heat sustained itself through harvest. That suggests that it was the hot second half of the year rather than the cool first half of the year that was more important to the vines' output.

Of course, just because we've finished picking doesn't mean that we're done with our cellar work. There are still plenty of lots to be pressed off, tanks to be dug out, and fermentations to monitor. But it feels different than it does earlier in harvest, when you're emptying tanks to make room for the next pick. We've already put a couple of our open-top fermenters outside, along with our sorting table and destemmer. And now, when we press something off and clean a tank out -- like this concrete fermenter, one of two that we bought and used this harvest for the first time -- that's the last time of the season: 

In character, it's early to tell what things will be like, but I asked Director of Winemaking Neil Collins to sum up the vintage, and he was optimistic: "good maturity, great acidity, whites are showing great floral character and good depth, unfortunately it's a bit short, but it will be an interesting vintage, interesting in a good way. Textural with good intensity on the reds. I think it will be strong, a lot of good color and good intensity for sure. I think it will be a fun one." We're all looking forward to getting to know the wines of 2024 even better in coming weeks.

With the harvest in, we've turned to getting the vineyard prepped for winter. We've been spreading compost and seeding cover crop in our dry-farmed blocks:

At the same time, we've been getting our flock of sheep back into our no-till blocks, where they can eat second-crop clusters and start the process of spreading the nutrients and microbial activity in their manure. Lambs should be on the way in the next few weeks:

It's always an adjustment coming down from the intensity and pace of harvest. But this autumn season offers its own rewards. We'll settle back into the rhythms of the vineyard and help it make the most of the rain when it comes. It's ready for a rest, as are we. But we'll be able to rest better knowing that the 2024 vintage is in the cellar, and as far as we can tell so far, looking good.

Paso Robles Is Ridiculously Beautiful Right Now, Autumn Transition Edition

We've had a hot last few months. That's been enough to accelerate things in the vineyard enough that we're pretty much done with harvest after just 46 days, ten days less than last year and roughly a week shorter than our long-term average. But by the middle of last week it was clear that the weather was changing. This week is forecast to top out, most days, in the 70s. And we have clouds:

Now if you live in another part of the country, it might not seem that extraordinary to celebrate clouds. But in Paso Robles, we have 320 days of sun a year, and we can go months in the summer with nothing but blue sky and sun so intense that it's easy to remember that we live and work at the same latitude as Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia. So we're grateful for the clouds' shelter when they arrive. And for their beauty:

Growing up in Vermont, where the fall foliage is an international attraction, probably conditioned me to look forward to the changing colors. And it's of course a lot more subtle here than it is in New England. But the grapevines do pick up yellow, orange, and red hues that do remind me at time of that show.

The clouds also set off the incredible deep blue of the sky, and the lighter tones of the leaves emphasize the darkness of the evergreen foliage on our live oaks:

The partial cover of the clouds also gives me the opportunity to take photos looking toward the sun in diffused light. I've always liked that effect, which makes the vines in the foreground look like they're glowing.

In moments when the clouds thicken you get a different color tone, more grey than golden, which is beautiful in its own right. This photo looks over one of our biodiversity blocks where we've planted fruit trees and an insectary preserve around a low wall of dry-laid limestone from the vineyard:

We also have the fun of having the sheep getting back out into vineyard blocks we've finished harvesting. The combination of sheep and sunsets is pretty amazing, and my wife Meghan has been making regular visits to document:

I'll leave you with one more shot from a vantage point I've come to love, looking west across Counoise and Syrah blocks toward the Santa Lucia Mountains and the setting sun: 

The autumn colors in Paso Robles don't last all that long; I'd estimate that we've got about a month before some combination of frost and rain will start the vineyard's natural progression toward brown leaves and eventually bare canes, and we start a new transformation to the brilliant green hillsides that reminded me of Ireland the first time I saw them. And that's beautiful too. But meanwhile, if you're visiting in the coming weeks, you're in for a treat. Don't think of any clouds you might get as a problem. Think of them as a theatrical backdrop. 

Harvest 2024 ramps to full speed, then cools down. Our vines (and our people) appreciate the respite.

On Monday night, I was snuggling under a blanket reading in our living room when I realized that it smelled like snow. No, it was never actually going to snow. Snow happens only once every few years in Paso Robles, and never in September. But that didn't change the fact that after a two month stretch that has ranged from warm to hot, the air felt different. It was already down in the 40s just after 10pm, and the crisp, electric air and the north wind would have sent me, if it were April, to check on our frost protection. In the end, it didn't come all that close to freezing. At my house it bottomed out at 38.7F, and at the vineyard it was a couple of degrees warmer. But that night, and the chilly, breezy day that followed and topped out only at 67.4F, definitely felt like a harbinger of the changing seasons. You can see from the chart below how different the last week has been compared to the beginning of September: 

As for the Tablas Creek harvest, this cooldown is giving the team a chance to catch their breaths after a rapid escalation of harvest. The first couple of weeks started slow, as we brought in 44.8 tons across those two weeks. The next week was a doozy. We brought in over 115 tons including one lot each of Viognier, Marsanne, Roussanne, Clairette Blanche, Grenache Blanc, and Vermentino, four lots of Grenache Blanc, seven lots of Grenache, ten lots of Syrah, and two co-harvested lots. Nineteen of these lots came off the estate, nine will go into Patelin, Patelin Blanc or Patelin Rosé, and one will become our newest Lignée de Tablas wine: a white blend from the Fenaughty vineyard in the Sierra foothills. The harvest chalkboard is filling up:

A few scenes from around the cellar will help give you a sense of things. First, the bins sitting on our crushpad, in this case Mourvedre (left) and Grenache (right):

Next, the daily chart that keeps track of our cap management for all our fermenting reds (notice the division into "pump over", "pulse air", and "punch down") as well as what's being received and pressed that day:

I'm guessing you're likely less familiar with what "pulse air" is than you are with pump over or punch down. For us, it's an important part of our program, and a way to keep the fermenting reds mixed without extracting harsher tannins. You need to do this mixing daily, at least, because the carbon dioxide bubbles that form during fermentation lift the berries to the surface, forming a "cap" or cake of mostly-whole berries at the top of a deeper pool of fermenting juice. You want the juice in contact with the berries because that's how you get the flavor extraction. In addition, leaving the berries to dry out at the surface invites problems such as spoilage yeasts. So typically you either push the berries down into the juice manually (that's a punch-down) or you pump the juice out from the bottom of the tank and spray it on the cap (that's a pump-over). But both have the potential to extract more of the harsher tannins than you might want: punch-downs because you're physically crushing the skins with each punch, and pump-overs because the pump's machinery ends up grinding up seeds that may have fallen to the bottom of the tank. The pulse-air, on the other hand, uses an air compressor and a long wand to release bubbles of air in the fermenting liquid. As that bubble escapes to the surface, it splashes apart the cap. This typically results in a gentler extraction. You can see the pulse-air in action below on one of our 1500-gallon wooden upright tanks, wielded by harvest intern Rachel:

In the vineyard, things have progressed rapidly, and everywhere you turn there is a jewel-like cluster of grapes, hanging enticingly. I particularly like the white clusters at this stage, as they pick up their first hint of honeyed tones. These Bourboulenc clusters should come in sometime in the next week or two:

At the same time, there are still clusters that are a long way from being ready to harvest. And that's just fine; we don't expect to bring in the last fruit until the end of October. This Grenache cluster is still going through the final stages of veraison:

I've been enjoying trying to come up with new perspectives on the ever-changing vineyard. One of my favorites has been to get underneath the vines and use a wide-angle to try to get the hanging clusters, the canopy, and the horizon line. Below you can see the results with Grenache (left) and Bourboulenc (right):

This week's cool-down hasn't meant that we've stopped harvesting. If you look at the harvest chalkboard above you'll see that we brought in nine different lots already this week. But it does take the pressure off. We were able to take yesterday and get our presses a much-needed servicing. We used some down time on Tuesday to get our recently-arrive 600-gallon foudres stacked and settled in our white room. We didn't harvest either weekend day last weekend. And we've been able to get the cellar team home by 4pm the past few days. That may not seem like much, but a week like last week meant 60 work hours for much of the team. Having a mellower week to recharge everyone's batteries is most welcome. 

Similarly, the cooler weather gives the grapevines a chance to recuperate and gather energy for their next push. The weather looks like it will warm up next week, not to any noteworthy level, but back into the 90s. Then things will get back on track.

One thing I'm going to be keeping my eyes on is yields. We're starting to get signals, mostly from our Patelin growers, that certain varieties are coming in much lighter than people expected. This seems to be particularly true with whites, although given that whites are mostly ready before reds, it's possible we'll see that reds will end up lower too. On our own property, it seems like Syrah, Grenache, and Grenache Blanc have pretty healthy yields out there. Viognier and Vermentino definitely look light. Roussanne, Counoise, and Mourvedre seem average to a bit below. But given that we haven't finished picking anything off our estate yet, it's hard to have the full picture. But I think we can conclude that our hopes of a truly plentiful vintage aren't going to come to pass. Look for more details in our next harvest update.

Meanwhile, I'm going to leave you with one more photo, taken by Vineyard Manager Jordy Lonborg at 4am yesterday. That's the nearly-full moon behind some high clouds, with the stacks of empty picking bins in the foreground. I'm not sure I can remember a more atmospheric harvest photo. There are moments of beauty every day out here. At this time of year, most nights, too.

Harvest 2024 begins under ideal conditions as moderate temperatures return

At around 5am today, we kicked off the 2024 harvest with six bins of Viognier from the top of our tallest hill. Conditions were perfect; it was in the low 50s, which meant that the fruit got into the cellar chilly. As we were finishing up, the sun started to rise over the eastern hills:

As we’d expected, this was neither a particularly early beginning harvest (like 2022, when we started on August 17th) nor was it a late start (like 2023, when we didn’t bring in estate fruit until September 14th). That’s not surprising given that the first half of the summer was quite cool, though not as cool as 2023, while for six weeks starting early July it’s been hot. Now it looks like we’ve settled into an ideal pattern. Check out the temperatures compared to average (and compared to the previous six weeks) since August 12th:

The first pick is always a milestone, with the cellar team joining the vineyard crew out in the field. The crew, many of whom have been here for decades, always get a kick out of this. David Maduena, our long-time Vineyard Manager (pictured below at the back of the bin trailer) is starting his 31st harvest here.

In the cellar, we’ve been spending the last few weeks washing everything and checking that all our equipment is working properly. It’s all so empty that it feels like we’re working in a new facility. It won’t feel like that for long.

The team has already done a bunch of sampling today, and we expect some reds in tomorrow. Nothing off the estate yet (and maybe not for a week or two) but we should get the Pinot Noir from our place in the Templeton Gap and some Syrah for Patelin de Tablas. We’re thinking that yields are likely to be similar to last year, maybe a little better in grapes like Roussanne and Syrah. We’ll know more, obviously, in a few weeks. 

One thing that is clear is that we're looking at a harvest that seems more like a marathon than a sprint. There isn't any major heat in the forecast, with a minor warm-up this week (highs likely topping out in the low-to-mid-90s) followed by a weak low pressure system likely cooling things down so that our highs will be in the mid-80s. All of the red grapes on the estate, with the exception of some of the hilltop blocks of Syrah, are still in the middle of veraison. In some blocks it’s barely started. These photos of Grenache (left) and Counoise (right) were taken late last week.

All this is normal, and good. Ripening conditions appear ideal. The vines look healthy. An extended harvest always allows us more time to sample and to make better use of our tanks. It’s always good to ease into harvest rather than have it start like an avalanche. We’ll have lots more to share with you soon. Stay tuned.

Veraison 2024 suggests an early-September kickoff to harvest... then a break… then a mid-September kickoff to harvest

By Ian Consoli

Veraison, if you're unfamiliar with the term, is a physiological stage of grape development where the berries stop accumulating mass and start accumulating sugar. More visibly, red grapes start their color change from green, while white grapes take on more of a yellow tint. Both red and white grapes start to soften. The onset of veraison comes roughly six weeks before the beginning of harvest, and gives us our best estimate for what sort of schedule we're likely looking at. And it's lovely. Witness this massive Grenache cluster, from the dry-farmed section of our Crosshairs block. At roughly 10" in diameter, it showcases the vigor we're seeing in our dry-farmed blocks specifically. It's a sight to behold:

The story of this year's veraison is its irregularity. We attribute this irregularity, in part, to an early budbreak for Syrah, Viognier, and some Grenache blocks that was followed by a cool down at the end of March and start of April, culminating in a frost event on April 6^th. That cold spell forced soil temperatures down and kept the other varieties in dormancy. Between that and the series of heatwaves pushing temperatures over 100˚F (the threshold at which vines shut down for the day), we're expecting a somewhat staggered start to #harvest2024. With that observation in mind, the weather is at an optimal temperature pattern right now, and things are moving fast. I thought I'd take a quick romp through all the different red Rhone varieties to give you a sense of where each stands. At the end, I've included a chart with how this year compares to other recent years and made some predictions about when we're likely to start picking.

We spotted our first color in the vineyard in Syrah on July 23rd. Now, a little more than two weeks later, every variety is showing at least the first stages of color change, and the early grapes are mostly red. I'll start with Syrah, as usual the first Rhone red to enter version and the fastest to change colors, and go roughly from most-veraison to least. The cluster here is a bit ahead of the average in the vineyard, and I'd estimate that we're probably around 80% through veraison in Syrah overall:

Next is probably Muscardin. It came in second last year and we were unsure whether it was unusual or not, since it is our newest arrival and we don't have many years of history. As we're getting to know it better, it does seem to go through veraison on the early side. It's not as dark red as Syrah (nor will it be at harvest) but overall it looks like it's about 60% of the way through:

Grenache is next in line, at roughly 40% veraison overall. It's always a particularly pretty grape to watch change color, with the berries turning jewel-like in the sun. Look for lots more Grenache pictures in the next month:

Next is Mourvedre. Mourvedre is an unusual grape in that it can start going through veraison on the early side, but is one of the last to be picked. This characteristic long-ripening period means it just takes longer than the others do in this stage. These clusters are fairly typical, and I'd estimate it is 30-40% through veraison overall:

Counoise is the next one up. It is relatively impossible to find clusters with color at the lower parts of the Counoise block, with clusters similar to the one below about mid-way up. The clusters at the top of the block have a bit more color, putting our estimate around 20% veraison overall. Note the characteristic large berries still have some growing to do:

Veraison in the last three Rhone varieties we grow are just getting started or nearly non-existent.

Cinsaut is surprising because it's not typically a late ripener, and the literature says it ripens pretty much in sync with Grenache. But the cluster below was one of just a few with any color at all. Maybe 5% veraison overall:

Terret Noir took some searching to find any color. This cluster, with a few pink-purple berries in a sea of green, is about as advanced as it gets. I'd estimate we're around 2-3% on Terret overall:

Vaccarese simply had no color at all. I searched through the entire block (which isn't difficult, given it's only eight rows) and couldn't find a single berry with color. Vaccarese tends to be one of the latest varieties to reach veraison every year.

Although it's less visually exciting than with reds, white grapes also go through veraison. The grapes turn from green to something a little yellower and soften and start to get sweet. They also become more translucent. The process happens over a continuum as it does in the reds. Viognier goes first, followed by Vermentino, Marsanne, and Grenache Blanc, with Picpoul and Roussanne bringing up the rear. You can see the slight translucency that the berries of Grenache Blanc (left) and Vermentino (right) are starting to pick up:

While the veraison posts you're likely seeing from your favorite wineries may make it seem like veraison is a moment, like Christmas, it's probably better understood as a continuum, like winter, and first veraison is like first frost, or first snowfall. It will likely be a week until all the Syrah clusters at Tablas are red, and 3-4 weeks until the last clusters of later grapes like Mourvedre and Counoise have finished coloring up.

While six weeks is a good basic guide for the duration between the onset of veraison and the beginning of harvest, it's not totally constant and will be influenced by the weather that we get in the interim, as well as by the amount of fruit the vines are carrying and the inherent tendencies of the different varieties. For example, a consistently cool summer and a plentiful crop in 2010 gave us a full seven weeks between veraison and our first harvest, while 2021's consistent heat and low yields gave us just a five-week interim. Each vintage since 2010 is compiled in the chart below, with each year linked to Jason's blog post about that year's version:

 

Year	First Veraison Noted	Estate Harvest Begins	# of Days
2010	July 30	September 16	49
2011	August 5	September 20	47
2012	July 25	September 5	42
2013	July 17	August 26	40
2014	July 9	August 23	45
2015	July 18	August 26	39
2016	July 13	August 18	36
2017	July 20	August 30	41
2018	July 29	September 10	43
2019	July 30	September 4	36
2020	July 21	August 25	35
2021	July 21	August 24	34
2022	July 12	August 17	36
2023	August 7	September 14	38
2024	July 24	?	?

Using the range of durations between first veraison and first harvest (34 to 49 days), we can try to predict when we might begin harvest in this irregular year. Those raw numbers suggest that we’ll start sometime between August 27^th and September 12^th, which seems safe enough but also a wide range. Vineyard Manager Jordan Lonborg sees us beginning harvest on the first week of September for grapes that bloomed before the cool down, like Viognier and Syrah. Then, we'll likely have two slow weeks before the real push of harvest begins. The weather between now and then will determine where in the range we'll fall, influenced as well by the crop levels, since lighter crops ripen faster than heavier ones.

Overall, we're seeing crop levels similar to last year, with exciting standouts in much-needed white varieties like Grenache Blanc, Picpoul, Marsanne, and Bourboulenc. It is interesting because, even with all the rain we received the last two winters, we see relatively small berries, but large cluster sizes make up for it. That may be due to the hot summer. We averaged highs of 98.5˚F in July and 99.3˚F so far in August. Heat is good until temperatures exceed 100˚F and the vines shut down for the day. Those periodic shutdowns can result in uneven ripening. As we push to the second half of August, we're in a perfect heat pattern in the mid-90's, and everything should proceed as scheduled if this pattern continues.

What's next for the vineyard? We'll watch the different grapes go through veraison. That progress is already happening fast, and the view in the vineyard is changing daily. We'll be posting regular photos of veraison's progress on our Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram pages. In a few weeks, we'll start sampling the early varieties, looking for the moment when the flavors are fully developed and the balance of sugars and acids is ideal. In the cellar, we've already started to get ready by finishing our blending of the 2023s and pulling out and checking on all the tanks and equipment we'll need once harvest begins. It's likely too that we'll see some grapes from Patelin or Lignée vineyards, and from the Haas Vineyard Pinot Noir, before anything comes off our estate. Those grapes should start coming in a couple of weeks.

So, now we wait and enjoy the show. We have an idea of how much time is on our timer, and we know Mother Nature has pushed “start”.

Sunburn and silver linings: Taking stock after 2024's first heat wave.

The cool start to the growing season feels like eons ago. For the last three weeks, since June 21st, we've been in a classic Paso Robles summer heat wave. It didn't start out all that dramatic; between June 21st and June 30th the average high temperatures were about 93°F. That was a lot warmer than the first two-thirds of the month (average high 86.5°F) but only about three degrees above average for the season. But since the calendar flipped to July, it's been scorching. The average high in July so far has been 104.4°F, with nine of the eleven days topping the century mark and a maximum high of 111.9°F on July 6th. That average is nearly 13 degrees warmer than normal in what is already one of our hottest seasons. The full picture to date:

Grapevines evolved in a hot, dry climate, and do pretty well up to about 100°F. But above that there start to be consequences. The biggest of these is sunburn. If it's really hot for an extended stretch, exposed grape clusters can suffer direct damage as cell membranes break down, compromising a berry's skin and allowing the liquid inside to evaporate away. The result is hard, brown, sour raisins, as in this Marsanne cluster:

The temperatures required to cause this sort of cellular damage in grapes is typically around 125°F. Even in a Paso Robles heat wave we don't ever see ambient temperatures this hot. But fruit that's exposed to the sun can see temperatures 20°F-25°F higher than the ambient air. So, when the temperatures top 100°F, we start to be at risk.

It might seem straightforward to avoid sunburn by leaving more canopy arching over the grape clusters. And we try to do that. But this desire is at odds with what we need to do to keep mildew pressures at bay. In June, we're typically working to remove any lateral shoots and tuck the canes in our trellised blocks up into the wires, all to open up the fruit zone to the free flow of light and air and the lower mildew pressures that come with good air circulation. So it's always a balance between addressing these two risks. For the same reason, we typically orient our vineyard rows in a north-south axis, perpendicular to the prevailing west-east winds. That also allows all the clusters to get some sun exposure, which is good for ripening. In a heat wave, though, this means that the clusters on the west side of a row, which are exposed to sun in the afternoon when it's hotter, are at more risk of sunburn than those on the east side of the rows. These next two photos are taken in the same Grenache block but on opposite sides of a row. First, the east side, which looks great:

Unfortunately, the west side of the row doesn't look as happy, with sunburned berries on the outside:

The impact of the sunburn is uneven across different varieties. Grapes with more vigor, longer canes, and more sprawling shape (think Vermentino, or Bourboulenc, or Syrah) are mostly fine. I'd estimate that we're seeing less than 5% sunburn damage in those varieties of grape. Grapes with less canopy, shorter canes, and less vigor (think Counoise or Mourvedre) show more damage, particularly in younger blocks with less well-developed cordons. In some younger blocks I saw as much as 50% loss from sunburn, though overall across those grape varieties I'd estimate it's more like 25%.  And then there are the grapes like Marsanne, Grenache, Roussanne, and others who sit somewhere in between in growth pattern and damage. Overall, across the vineyard I'd estimate something like a 15% loss.

Unfortunately, the tools that we have to deal with sunburn are limited. There are some vineyards that are experimenting with widespread misting to bring temperatures down in peak heat times, but the infrastructure is expensive and it uses a lot of water. Others put shadecloth out to protect the fruit zones, but that's cumbersome, needs to be replaced every couple of years, and creates a ton of plastic waste that goes straight into the landfill. If it were later in the year, we could turn on our irrigation, and we've done that in some of our most stress-prone blocks, but that's more to stave off any later loss of vigor than it is a way to address the temperature of grape clusters exposed to the sun.

In terms of future options, we've talked about redeveloping vineyards along an east-west axis instead of north-south, so that the fruit zone is always shaded by the canopy. We've also talked about moving our rows farther apart from the 8 feet they are currently, so we can leave the canopies to sprawl more without worrying that they'll start to interconnect and make it difficult to get in and see what's going on. But those changes will have to wait for new plantings. Meanwhile we'll have to make do with half-measures like perhaps only tucking the canes on the east side of a row and letting those on the west side sprawl and provide more shade.

There are three pieces of good news. The first is that we're starting from a position of health. Thanks to two consecutive years of good rain, the vineyard looks healthy, and the canopies are still green and lush. I drove around almost the entire vineyard today and the vines don't look ragged or otherwise stressed, and everything is still a vibrant green:

The second piece of good news is that sunburn at this time of year doesn't typically have a negative impact on fruit quality and can even be an asset. Quantity will be negatively affected, sure. But in terms of quality a bit of sunburn can act like a fruit-thinning pass, increasing the intensity of what remains. And finally, the third piece of good news is that we had some quantity to spare. I spoke to Viticulturist Jordan Lonborg yesterday and he was confident that even with the losses we were going to see a healthy crop above last year's levels. He was even thinking that this might save a fruit-thinning pass and the labor costs that would entail.

I'll leave you with one photo, so as not to have your lasting impression be that this was a disaster. Here's a Grenache block, photographed from below. This is the west side of the vine row, and you can see the clusters ripening, green and plump, while the intense green of the canopy duels with an even bluer sky:

This heat wave is forecast to break tomorrow, and next week to have temperatures average or below. We'll all be grateful. Next stop: veraison.

Why we're glad for the wet 2023-24 winter and glorying in the (so far) cool 2024 spring

This past weekend was Memorial Day, and we spent Saturday evening with friends on their patio. I wore jeans and a long-sleeve shirt and brought a quilted Tablas Creek pullover for after the sun went down. It turned out I needed it starting around 6pm, and the friends broke out their collection of blankets to keep us warm while we hung out and chatted as the light faded and the stars came out. It was lovely. But it was also weird. This is late May! Where was the heat?

We usually assume that Paso Robles Wine Festival, always the third weekend in May, is going to provide the first summer weather of the year. Our goal was always to get a prime table under a big spreading oak tree so we had shelter from the 90° heat. Not this year. The day was sunny but breezy and cool, and as the afternoon drew to a close and the wind started whipping, we were looking for patches of sun to warm our backs. I'm not complaining; I would always prefer conditions like this to it being sweltering for a wine festival. But take a close look at the fleece and denim among our pouring crew:

Those are just two anecdotal examples, but looking at the weather since the beginning of April bears out that it's been cooler than normal. The average high has been about 4°F cooler than normal, and the average nighttime low about 3°F cooler than normal. That may not seem like much. But six days haven't made it out of the 50s. Another 13 days haven't made it out of the 60s. And we have yet to hit 90°F even once. 

Looking at it a different way, the first two months of the 2024 growing season have seen high temperatures been slightly cooler than the same stretch last year, which was by far our coolest year in more than a decade. The net result is that we're just starting flowering at a time of year when in a more typical year (like 2021) we'd have been at its peak.

This slow progression is consistent with the winter that we saw. Now that we're likely past any more rain, we can compare the winter of 2023-24 with normal. First, total rainfall compared to previous years, where you'll notice that it was above average at more than 29 inches, but nothing close to the crazy rainfall we got last winter:

Looking by month, you'll see that we got pretty close to our average rainfall most months, with the exception of a somewhat dry beginning to the winter (which we're thankful for given the lateness of the 2023 harvest) and a February that produced roughly double normal rainfall:

The rain also came more gently than we often see in winters here, where most of the rain comes in a few big storms. We had 49 days with measurable rainfall, which means that we averaged only 0.59" of rain each rainy day. By contrast, in the winter of 2022-23, we had somewhat more rainy days (62) and those days averaged 0.8" of accumulation. They were also more concentrated in January and March, which were the months where we saw flooding.

While it's generally a solid rule that in California, there's no such thing as too much rain, we were just fine with this most recent winter. It takes about 15" of rain to saturate our calcareous soils and provide sufficient water for our dry-farmed vines to make it through the growing season. It takes another 10" of rain to refill our wells to capacity and start to refill the reservoirs. Anything beyond that flows off and becomes extra capacity. If the state is in a drought, extra water helps replenish critically low reservoir levels. But given that the ample rainfall last winter already did that, we didn't need another 40" year, and we were grateful not to have to deal with creeks jumping their banks or customers dealing with washouts or closures.

The moisture did help keep our soil temperatures low and delayed budbreak to a normal time. Since then, the cool weather has mostly meant that we're having to keep mowing since the grasses between the rows keep growing and with the new growth in the vines it's too late in the year for the sheep to help. That means we're living with a shaggier-than-normal vineyard profile:

In the mornings, we're seeing weather that wouldn't be surprising in a place like Santa Barbara or San Diego (where they have terms for this: "May grey" and "June gloom"). But in Paso Robles, what is normally a once- or twice-a-month phenomenon has been pretty regular. I took a few photos on my way into work last week in our Scruffy Hill block that will give you a sense. The atmosphere is lovely for photos, and it's relatively rare here:

A close-up of one of the vines, with others marching away down the hill in the fog, is one of my favorite recent vineyard photos:

Finally, in the afternoons we've been getting another pretty but usually rare phenomenon: a fog bank massing over the Santa Lucia Mountains to our west. That fog has burned off during the day, but you can see it looming there, ready to roll back in when the sun goes down:

We're not worried about any of this. The vineyard looks amazing and the lack of stress is a great thing for vine health. The wet winter and cool spring mean that you can reach into the soil anywhere and just an inch or two down you get to damp, dark earth. Plus, it always warms up in Paso Robles, and even in a cool year like 2023, we have a long enough growing season to get the grapes ripe. It looks like we might not have long to wait; the forecast for the next couple of weeks looks like we'll be getting into the 80s pretty regularly, with some low-90s possible Thursday and Friday. Meanwhile we'll enjoy the unusual scenery and glory in the lovely daytime weather. If you're visiting in the coming weeks, you're in for a treat.

Budbreak 2024: Right on Time

This winter has continued to follow a pattern something close to the platonic ideal of a Paso Robles winter. Some November rain to get the cover crop started. A cold December, to force the vines into dormancy. Regular and plentiful rain January through March, to keep soil temperatures down, but with sunny and warmer intervals, to encourage cover crop growth. And then a turn in April toward spring-like weather. And as we'd expect, as we passed the spring equinox we've started to see budbreak in our early-sprouting varieties. Below are Viognier (left) and Syrah (right):

The rainfall-by-month graph for the winter so far shows the classic nature of what we've seen:

Budbreak, as you probably guessed from the name, is the period when the grapevine buds swell and burst into leaf.  It is the first marker in the growing cycle, a point when we can compare the current season to past years.  Upcoming markers will include flowering, veraison, first harvest, and last harvest.  And like harvest, budbreak doesn't happen for every grape simultaneously. Early grapes like Viognier, Grenache Blanc, Grenache, Vermentino, Cinsaut, and Syrah tend to go first, followed by Marsanne, Tannat, and Picpoul, and finally, often three weeks or more after the earliest grapes sprouted, Roussanne, Counoise, and Mourvedre. We've seen budbreak in all the early varieties, but are still waiting even for the middle varieties like Marsanne, which I was surprised to find still fully dormant on a ramble around the vineyard yesterday:

This year is about average for us, significantly later than most of our drought years, though a couple of weeks earlier than 2023. The timing that we're seeing comes despite that we haven't recorded a below-freezing night here at our weather station since February 12th. That budbreak waited some six weeks after our last frost reinforces the importance of wet soils, which hold cool temperatures better than dry soils do. For an overview, here's when we saw budbreak the last dozen years:

2023: First week of April
2022 Mid-March
2021: Last week of March
2020: Last week of March
2019: Second half of March
2018: Second half of March
2017: Mid-March
2016: Very end of February
2015: Second week of March
2014: Mid-March
2013: First week of April
2012: Mid-April

In addition to the variation by variety, there's variation by elevation and vineyard block. Grenache is a good example. I took the following four photos as I walked up the hill. The first photo is from the bottom of the block, where cool air settles at night. You can see the buds swelling, but no leaves yet:

A little further up the hill, you see the first leaves emerging:

At roughly two-thirds of the way up the hill, you see some buds unfurling larger leaves:

And at the top of the hill, nearly all the buds are out:

It will be another few weeks before we see much sprouting in late-emerging grapes like. This is Roussanne (left) and Mourvedre (right), both looking more or less as they would have in mid-winter:

Now our worries turn to frost. Before budbreak, the vines are safely dormant, and a freeze doesn't harm them. But once they sprout, the new growth is susceptible to frost damage. April frosts cost us roughly 40% of our production in both 2009 and 2011 and a May frost cost us 20% of our production in 2022, with Mother's Day marking the unofficial end of frost season. So, we've still got more than a month to go before we can relax, and I'm thankful that it will be a few weeks before our later-sprouting varieties and our lower-lying (read: more frost-prone) areas are out enough to be at risk. 

That said, there's nothing particularly scary in our long-term forecast. We're supposed to get one more late-winter storm later this week, but it doesn't seem likely to drop below freezing. After that, we're expecting drier weather as the storm track shifts north. But there's a long way to go.

Meanwhile, we'll enjoy the rapid changes in the vineyard, and the hope that always comes with the emergence of new buds. Please join me in welcoming the 2024 vintage.

The most recent atmospheric river was great news for Paso Robles wine country

That last California storm was a doozy. Los Angeles got nearly an entire year's worth of rainfall in one day. The mountains outside Santa Barbara received enough rain that water levels at Lake Cachuma rose more than 5 feet and are now at the spillway. The Sierra Nevada stations recorded more than five feet of snow. We even had two tornadoes touch down here in San Luis Obispo county, the first time tornadoes have been recorded here since 2004. Thankfully, California was well prepared for these storms, and loss of life and property appears to have been pretty low.

Here in Paso Robles, we were north of the areas most affected by the storm. But still, it was wet, wild, and windy, with about 2.5" falling on Sunday and another inch over the next few days. I posted this video on Sunday, taken out our back deck. Turn the sound on to hear the wind:

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To keep our people safe and potential customers off the road, we closed our tasting room Sunday. Still, Neil braved the storm to see how things looked and sent some photos and videos. The vineyard was holding up great. Most of the three inches of rain we received had soaked in, with only a little flowing down the new drainage channel we built this winter:

The capacity of these calcareous soils to absorb water is amazing. And particularly at this time of year, with the cover crops so well established, we hardly ever worry about erosion. But it's still a substantial test to get three inches of rain in a day, or six inches in five days. Working in our favor is the fact that, unlike last January, when we got 20 inches of rain in three weeks on top of already-saturated soils, what we're seeing this year is well within historical norms. In fact, you can barely distinguish the average from the actual rainfall in our monthly rainfall graph:

Even the roads held up well, thanks to the matting of straw, reeds, and rushes that we placed over them earlier this winter:

Overall, we're at 111% of normal rainfall to date, mostly because February is only about one-third done and it's typically our second-wettest month. There's every reason to expect more rainfall before the calendar turns to March. But the next week looks sunny, which will be lovely, as it gives time for the soils to draw that water down to deeper layers and is prime growing season for the cover crops. Already, it's so green it practically hurts your eyes:

The sheep are loving all the new grass, particularly after having been on dry feed for a week in our barn while the storm blew through. At this point, we'll likely be able to leave them out in the vineyard in future storms, since the root systems are well enough established that we're no longer particularly worried about soil compaction.

I'll leave you with one last photo, which showcases the ingenuity of our vineyard team. We choose to put our compost pile in one of the lowest sections of the vineyard, where water drains in periods of heavy rain. In the late fall, we arrange our compost piles perpendicular to the flow of that water so that water is infused with the nutrients as it flows through: a sort of compost tea on a grand scale. Then, we dug a series of catchment basins downstream from the compost piles. This slows the flow of the water and encourages it to soak in rather than running off. Finally, once those basins start to fill up, we pump the nutrient and microbe-infused water out and spray it onto our nearby vineyard blocks between rainstorms. This shares all the goodness that's in the compost piles across many acres of the property.

So, if you were reading headlines about the storms and wondering about how the vineyards in Paso Robles were faring, you don't need to worry. Things are looking great.