Pruning Sauvignon Blanc vines while listening to The Hobbit
by Kit Munro
Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule… His rage passes description– the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never used or wanted.
Apparently some of the filming for The Hobbit is being done just down the road. The river rafting scene so I hear. There goes the neighbourhood. Locals say, with one breath, on the plus side it will be good for tourism and mutter with the next breath that, on the down side, it will be good for tourism.
This province, not content with being a hotspot for dwarfish white water rafting has also dabbled in wine production. Vineyards look lovely from a distance. They look less lovely the more time you have to spend in them. In fact, after a while they can look downright hideous.
You see those long straight rows of vines all vineyards have? Well for the vineyard worker (or vinnie as we are often disparagingly called) they are a factory conveyor belt. Only, rather than the vines moving past us, we have to move past them.
The slowest job, on this green conveyor belt, is pruning. Old wood has to be removed and new wood laid down. The vine shoots only grow from new wood.
I will most likely see The Hobbit when it comes out, so it seemed a good idea to read the book. The movie can always be enjoyed after the book is read, but often the book cannot be enjoyed after the movie is seen. The speed with which I prune has varied from chapter to chapter of The Hobbit. The more exciting the chapter, the faster I seemed to prune. Towards the end of the book, it was so exciting that I reached the end of a row without even realising it.
With a new found appreciation for bacon and eggs, and pots of tea ––no day-dreams of winning the lottery today–– I head in for smoko. Lazily, I do toy with the idea of taking up smoking a pipe.
So he sat himeself down with his back to a tree, and not for the last time fell to thinking of his far-distant hobbit-hole with its beautiful pantries. He was deep in thoughts of bacon and eggs and toast and butter when he felt something touch him…