The word “plant” is a very versatile word.
It can mean a dandelion or an oak tree, or the stuff they make Beyond Meat from. It can mean a giant steel manufacturing factory. It can mean a CIA double agent inserted in a key Politburo agency.
You can plant a rosebush, an idea, a kiss on your sweetheart’s cheek or your foot in the rear end of a bully.
At Christmastime, we dressed dyslexic Uncle Otto like Santa Claus and planted him in a snowbank in front of the house, where he called out, “Oh, Oh, Oh!” to startled passers-by.*
Here at Union Grove Farm, we** plant grapevines every year at about this time. Lots of them. This year, we’re planting 13,860 and once the 2025 babies are safely in the ground, they and their older siblings will cover some 87 acres.
By 2028, the plan calls for a total of 270 acres (133,650 vines.) After that, who knows?
It takes three years for a baby vine to reach grape-producing maturity, so by 2028 we should be capable of harvesting 198,000 pounds of fruit, which is slightly more than 4,445,000 individual and very delicious grapes. Sooo, plenty for you and me, the North Carolina Symphony Orchestra, the crowd at the Super Bowl and, well you get the picture.
Virtually all of these, mind you, will be seedless, patented varietals of fabulously good-for-you, high-antioxidant Muscadines. The two major types are a dark red, almost black grape that virtually explodes in your mouth with exquisite flavor, and a larger golden-taupe hued one with a lasting sweetness you’ll want to savor over and over.
Oh, you want me to show you a picture? Can’t do that. See, it’s just planting time. Maybe at harvest time, I’ll show you, but remember, this year we’ll only have a few, so you’d have to really be Johnny on the spot to get some to taste…this year. Next year, maybe. And the year after that, darn tootin’.
You can’t wait? How do you think we feel?
You see, it’s not just the three years from planting to mass harvest. Before we even got to plant the field shown in the pictures here, field UG/D, the 85-year-old forest that stood on those seven acres had to be felled and cleared. Prior to the forest, it had been planted in tobacco. Neither tobacco nor forest plants create soil worth a damn when it comes to growing grapes, or any other food crop.
Once the timber was gone, the land had to be graded and a pond created to provide water for irrigation. By using surface water for this purpose, Union Grove Farm avoids drilling wells and putting pressure on the aquifer, which is the source of water for the homes and businesses of a wide area in Orange County.
Then began the actual preparation of the soil, which involves spreading a biologically rich mixture incongruously called “street sweepings,” enriched still further by our own vermicompost, produced right here on the farm by our slimy army of red wiggler worms, who live peacefully in a lovely tank of their own and feed on yummy garbage we bring in from neighboring supermarkets. They eat, wiggle and poop all day every day. It’s what they do. The poop is harvested.
They also breed, so their number is constantly going up. We think there are about 100,000 of them by now. If you doubt this, feel free to come over and count them yourself.
Then, specially-chosen soil-enriching cover crops are planted and sheep are released into the field to add their nutrient-rich saliva and poop to the mixture. The soil gets richer and richer as the whole frosting seeps into the previously barren ground.
This goes on for years until, finally, the field is pronounced ready, willing and able to become a vineyard. Then we install row upon row of iron stakes, connect them at five feet above the ground with sturdy wire and affix vine-friendly galvanized steel pencil rods to the wire at intervals between the posts. The end posts are angled away from the row so the wire can be kept tight. Finally, the irrigation hoses are affixed to the posts and connected to a cleverly-sited pump right there by the pond. The field is ready for planting.
Whew! About time!
We don’t plant grape seeds into our painstakingly prepared soil. We have people for that. Every spring, they deliver to us the requisite number of baby grapevines, perhaps twelve inches high or so. This year, we told them to send us 13,860 and they hustled their buns and did it. What you see in the picture below is bemasked vineyard expert David Saaverda hard at work putting a plant into the ground next to a pencil rod, green side up. Like I said, he’s an expert. He will then pull a protective plastic sleeve around them, to protect them when he’s gone.
Young vines have only one desire, and that is to get closer to the sun. Finding a pencil rod nearby, they grab onto it and immediately start climbing upward. In a few weeks, they will emerge from the plastic sleeves and by fall, when they go into hibernation, they will have gotten all the way to the top, and begun growing along the wire. The following year, the slender upright vines have turned into sturdy wood trunks, and the plants learn about sex, and start experimenting, as adolescents will, producing a few grapes in the process. Over the winter, they think about how much fun that was, and the next year they forget all about getting closer to the sun and just branch out in all directions, increasing their capacity to produce whole bunches of grapes all at once. Extasy!
Their grandparents used to smoke a cigarette at this point, but that is now considered déclassé so today’s with-it vine just rolls over for a long winter’s nap.
But I have strayed from my brief. Perhaps I will do another piece this fall at Harvest Time. Or perhaps not. You never can tell with me.
Planting time, harvest time, whenever, you yourself can observe the amazing activities that go on here at Union Grove Farm. We have tours! Start yours here.
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*From the satire “The Year In Review,” 1999, by Jay Bryant. If you want to read the whole silly article, I’ll be happy to email it to you.
**You will notice that from time to time herein, I use the word “we” in talking about the people of Union Grove Farm. Please do not take this to mean that I in any way deserve to be included in the management and/or labor thereof. I merit not one iota of credit for the tremendous job they do.
