Founder, Owner, Winemaker, Hose Dragger, Vine Pruner and amateur blog writer...
In the beginning there was wine that came forth from the fruit of a vine. And the people of the Farmers tribe tended to the vines and nourished the fruit till it burst with flavor and sugars and proceeded to deliver it to the folk at the winery. And the winery tribe folk said: “Thanks” and wished the Farmers tribe a joyful vacation while they toiled in the caves and the tanks to extract the essence of the grape and make it bubble and froth till it could no more. And they toiled some more to clear up the froth and fill the casks, and they let the newborn wine relax and develop a local character. And so, for millennia, the cycle continued; balanced by nature. And the folk of all the tribes consumed their local wine in moderation with their manna, and their spirits were lifted, and between wars they set forth to better their lives and even invented the “Rock And Roll” that cures many afflictions.
Then it came to be that the planet grew smaller and travel accelerated to the speed of a Concorde. And the folk from the tribe of the Shysters (who pray to the altar of their God “Greed”) saw that the local tribes were simple and that a buck could be made here. And so they proceeded to invent the PR Position from which all evil emanates. And the winery folk had to sit in long meetings and memorize the phrases they can use, and their brains were washed clean until they noticed not the bee ess they were spewing. And the PR folk procreated with more Greed and spawned the hospitality folk. And the poor winery folk had to sit in more long meetings and learn to recite the name and price of all the "Chatchkes" that were sold in the tasting room. And the Farmer tribe folk were banished from the shiny marble floors of the winery, lest they be tarnished with soil.
And soon, the Newly-Rich tribe of the dotcom came to be and, high on excess, they began frequenting the palaces of wine. And the hospitality folk were happy to relieve them of their cash and in return fed them more bee-ess and made them feel very special indeed. And the tribe of the winemakers with their newly-washed brains became true believers and dutifully recited the PR brochure stuff to the tribe of the Writers. And the writers then accepted the weekend retreats, the lavish meals brimming with goose liver fat on a bed of frisee and the helicopter rides and occasional happy massage and began to exalt the fruit of the vine. And they came up with words such as “Terroir” to make the tribe of the poor feel inadequate and strive for enlightenment. And the marketing folk, that write winery pee-oh-ess (that's Point Of Sale materials...) saw that it was good, and they set forth and explained why an Oakville Cabernet planted on the flat fertile clay soils can produce a bottle of wine that costs more than a year’s college tuition. And the people of the Somms tribe rejoiced, for now they had yet another hard-to-pronounce word with which to club the uninitiated, or at least impress the new blond hostess with the big mammalian protuberances that started to work last Tuesday in their new neighborhood eatery..
And the Accounting tribe people soon figured it out and proceeded to tell the winemaker tribe how to maketh the wine; with oak dust and mega purple and all sorts of slime. And soon it came to be that all wine tasted the same and similar to the truth at the cereal isle: few factories produced a charade of plenty. And all the tribes drank the cool-aid with a smile.
By the way, first Pinot Noir for bubbly (yes, we are starting to make some) will be harvested in 6 hours. Happy harvest ya’ll.