Riesling grapes, Fox Hill Vineyards
2 October 2016.
I pulled back the curtain on the hotel room door. Sun! I opened the door. Wind!
The gulls, geese, and ducks were elsewhere, save for a lone sentry on top of the buoy.
I wandered towards the inlet to stretch from the maple branch again.
Back Owl was still at his feathered post. Front Owl's head moved with the breeze.
After breakfast, Jack and I sat on the patio and read. Across the inlet, a couple tossed a floating toy to a dog who plunged into the lake after it, hurried back, shook the water off, and, tail wagging, waited for the next toss. The pooch did this over and over for at least twenty minutes.
There were motorboats and kayaks on the lake today.
We hadn't made plans. I suggested we stop at an orchard for some New York State apples, which we did, at a farm on the other side of town, at the top of a steep hill.
We retraced our steps to the western shore of Seneca Lake, and drove up the long gravel driveway at Fox Run Vineyards.
Few wineries give tours anymore. We didn't know that this one still did, nor that we'd arrived in time for one. We had a few minutes before it started, so I wandered around taking pictures.
Jack, in his natural habitat, a winery:
As luck would have it, the winery owner was giving the tour. In front of Riesling vines, he paused to preach his version of grape gospel. If we're going to go with a Bible analogy, he's very much a New Testament guy.
From up on the hill by the vines, we could still see Seneca Lake:
At the winery, grape collection boxes were stacked well over our heads.
There was a refrigeration problem with a fermentation vat; a repairman was working on fixing it.
Stainless steel fermentation vats:
Oak barrels aging red wines:
A bottling machine, left, and a labeling machine, right. Pure steampunk.
On our way back down the hill, I asked if there are deer up here. There are. He once lost an entire vineyard plot overnight when a herd found the grapes he and his crew had planned to pick the following day. That was $30,000 worth of fruit those deer snarfed down; he put up an 8-foot fence for $18K to solve the problem. There are also turkeys, who are smart enough to know how to shake the vines to knock the ripe fruit to the ground, and also stupid enough to be scared off the vines permanently with one shot from a flare gun. He also uses a sound cannon to keep birds away, as well as a recording of various species of birds in distress.
The sculptured front gate:
We drove around the northern end of Seneca Lake again, through Geneva, and down the eastern side, to Boundary Breaks Vineyard.
Here, the growers focus on Rieslings. We were greeted by one of the owners, who talked with us for a good long while.
Stumbling upon this winery, Jack found a winner, and came away with a mixed case and a membership that will see half a case of Boundary Breaks wine at his door twice a year.
The winery name comes partially from the two ravines, one on each side of the property, known as "breaks." The name "Ravine" has already been taken by another Finger Lakes grower. International winery law requires unique names. The bottle labels show stylized topographical maps.
The tasting room had only opened in June; the winery itself is only a few years old.
We decided to finish our circuit around Seneca, which brought us to Watkins Glen at the southern end of the lake. We decided to walk around town. The first thing I saw was a hill so steep it reminded me of a straightened Fiddler's Elbow. This photograph makes the road look half as steep as it is.
There was nothing to look at on the main street; most shops were closed, and none were interesting. Jack suggested we take a peek at the harbor.
As soon as I set foot on the dock, I felt a little bit of Bar Harbor coming back to me. Would I get my zen after all?
Rocks, harbor, still water...
As close to zen as I could get without the smell of salt water and being in Maine. Close enough for now.
Gad. I almost look like one of those naked ladies on 18-wheeler mudflaps.
As the sky clouded over, we drove back to Penn Yan, where I finally got a picture of this thing that stands across the street from the hotel. It's a fine example of the sort of thing that it is.
Tomorrow we drive back to Jersey. First, though, we're returning to Corning, where I'm going to make a few blown glass pieces. None will be a pumpkin,
2 comments:
"...where I finally got a picture of this thing that stands across the street from the hotel. It's a fine example of the sort of thing that it is."
I think it's a cupola from the top of a building. It was put there while they fixed the roof, and then they ran out of money, or something.
We are so doing that hill in Watkins Glen if we make it there for a biking trip.
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