Everyone has a pick lined up next week
Instead of having a know-it-all winemaker talk about the first grapes, we’ve enlisted my sister who just arrived to the valley to describe the sounds.
Here’s what she has to say.
“Skitch plonk”. That’s the sound of picking. It’s the rustle of leaves, the action of the clippers, and the plonk of grapes in the bucket,
“Shöooop”. That’s fruit getting slurped when someone walks by the Damson Plum Tree coming in for lunch.
“Shibbly doop” (in a low voice). That’s the sound of grower’s lunch talk, the French twist when Petillant Naturel is described.
“Cheepit”. It sounded like there was only one cricket singing by the ugly Beauty Bush.
“Hyipt”. Empty glass arrives on the delivery truck and forklift drops pallet in dust.
‘JEEEnnnn”. Tractor operator yelling at her to take picker’s water bottle.
“Shwippp”. This is me turning the page on my Douglas Coupland back in the farmhouse, enjoying my vacation.
Up yer Arse!
No I wouldn't actually say that to the pickers.
Sister Jeannine signing off XOXO
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