Originally uploaded by oiseau.
My hands are stained black, my back aches and I have a sunburnt nose. But I wouldn't want to feel any other way.
The grapes were ripe, the chardonnay golden and the pinots burst in your hands if you pulled them too hard from the vine.
After a fairly miserable Saturday morning spent in the kitchen with the women (oh, the things my more anonymous blog would say), I joined the smaller picking team for a long afternoon in the vines. I also got up before dawn yesterday to go out with the one team working Sunday. The atmosphere is one of the best they've had. No fights this year, just some laughs, a few groans and I've picked up a little patois from the pickers who come down from the north each year.
When we arrived at the vines at 8am yesterday morning, the mist was still hanging across the valley. As the sun rose and the day warmed up, a group of fifty odd ramblers walked past, pausing to take photos and wish us courage, whilst we stopped for our casse-croûte of beer and biscuits.
I'm now sat at home, 'working', looking out of the window wishing I was back out there.
You can see the first set of photos here.