So romantic, those vineyards. Ocean upon ocean of rolling, green vines — a pattern Gene Davis could only have dreamed of — carpeting the valley from forest trail to river’s edge. It’s no wonder scores of men and women are drawn to these hills, and their particularly enchanting way of life.



Owning a vineyard may seem like a dream to some (and honestly, it is to us) but it bears mentioning that farming grapes is, in fact, still farming. People tend to conveniently forget this. Those who thrive on continuity should not invest in vineyards. But if you love that roller coaster feeling of never knowing what the day will bring, if you live to solve problems on the go, and you relish the stream of small, steady accomplishments that come from watching something (or someone) grow, you should give it a go.



The moment a vine is planted, we live according to the whims of Mother Nature. Will the new block survive a hard frost this winter? Or will a torrential downpour wash away valuable topsoil, leaving young vines with little but a rocky embrace? We roll with the vagaries of each season — unseasonably hot summers, late spring frosts, dry spells, and bursts of humidity — nursing our babies through four long years before their first, qualified harvest.



It’s a wild and beautiful place, Oregon wine country — a land where ideas, big and small, take root. We’re happy to be living our dream here, learning the language of the vines, as we plod slowly towards another miraculous harvest.




All images by Grace Young Photography