Life From the Seat of a Tractor

When I was little, my dad bought a farm.

He's a beer and wine importer and was, at the time, working 100 hours a week growing his company. But he still bought a farm.

The years following were a series of pretty comical stories as he attempted to, with the help of his neighbors, become a part time farmer living off the land. Always his faithful sidekick, I remember tagging along (at 4 AM, no less) when he went to his first farmers market to sell his organic lettuces. It was then that I realized a few things: first, there's way more to growing your own stuff than I realized, and second, my dad is a true salesman. I don't mean the latter in the used car kind of way; on the contrary, he engaged his customers, spoke to them like he understood them, and showed them all how passionate he was about his damn lettuce. He cared so deeply and genuinely wanted his customers to like what he was selling, and he sold every bag of greens effortlessly.

I was inspired. I used some of our hard-earned profits to buy a mini pecan pie from the baker's booth next to us. And then I set out to spend my life trying to become just like him.

Now that he's been farming for twenty years, he has a few words to live by, and I find that those are applicable lessons to all of us farmers, whether you're growing grapes or lettuce.

You cannot unsay a cruel word. This goes for slightly unkind words, too. Keep it real, keep it polite, and keep it as pleasant as you can.

Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer. People talk too much sometimes. Quiet stands out.

If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try ordering someone else's dog around. Yep.

Riverbench may never be the trendiest, loudest, or even most popular winery. We won't elbow our way into the spotlight. We'll passionately and persistently share our relentless quest for quality, and tell you about our efforts because we simply love what we do so much. Because at the end of the day to us, that's what counts.

Rest in Peace, Seymour

It's bittersweet, this year of changes for Riverbench. We have now become a 262 acre vineyard after removing a large section of Chardonnay vines which have hit the ripe old age of 40 and are no longer productive enough to continue to support farming them.

It's rather sad to see these beautiful, gnarled trunks pulled out of the ground. We'll grind them up and use them as compost, so they'll do what they were supposed to do and recycle themselves. These sections are eerily empty, though still peaceful and beautiful in their own way. The empty parts of the vineyard will remain fallow for at least a year while we decide what replanting measures to take.

All that upturned earth creates such a beautiful Riverbench-y smell. Hard working vines, we salute you!

I wish I had a picture of Seymour, but I can't seem to find one (sometimes the OCD gets the best of me and I end up deleting things I shouldn't). He was a special vine right outside the tasting room who happens to be a different clone of Chardonnay than those around him. Every year in the summer when the vines are green and leafy, Seymour was the greenest and leafiest and biggest of them all. Seriously, he stood out in a crowd. Alas, he was part of the removal, but he'll not be forgotten.

Lest it seem morbid that we're taking out so many vines, I'd like to point out that there are still many more original vines left on the property which still produce enough grapes to make sense. Maybe they'll be around another 40 years. These phases of vineyard renewal are just part of the process that will keep the quality of Riverbench grapes excellent for many years to come.