We have great news for fans of Woodhawk Vineyards.  In about a year we will have a fabulous tasting space and delicious wine to taste!

1,599 days ago… We bought Woodhawk Vineyards almost four and a half years ago, with the dream of owning a vineyard and eventually creating our own small, luxury winery. 

Our Woodhawk Vineyards 2022 Cabernet Sauvignon is a wine born of extremes. It was harvested in late August 2022 during one of the most intense heat waves the Alexander Valley had seen.

It was a record year for Woodhawk Vineyards! We harvested the most tons of grapes the vineyard has ever produced – 81 tons. As you may remember, we sell nearly all our grapes to Silver Oak.

After more than 30 years in my previous career responding to events and demands in hours if not in minutes, the grape growing/wine making business is all about long horizons. 

Nearly 20 years ago, we conceived of the dream of some day owning and living on a high-end vineyard.  A second career running a winery and small tasting room.  Making it our own.

So last week, I made yet another trip up to Woodhawk from our home in Danville and along the way I picked up something called a macro bin.  In my case, it was a one-ton insulated macro bin with a lid.

You think your baby is cute.  Okay, cuter than cute– maybe the cutest baby in the world. You realize you might be biased, but you’ve looked at other babies, and yep, yours is pretty damn cute.  Then let’s say someone comes along who knows all about babies and has seen many over the years.

I’m not sure what she had in mind when she pictured a well for a rural property with approximately 25,000 vines. The well is a workhorse, pulling the majority of agricultural and domestic water supply for Woodhawk’s 70 acres.

In this case, our baby was our first harvest as vineyard owners. We had big plans to be there when the grapes were coming off the vines. We had a grand vision of photos of perfect grapes being harvested at sunrise, and were anticipating the wonderful smells of soil, harvest and the morning dew.

“Nervicited” is a word concocted by our daughter when she was five trying to describe how she felt about her upcoming ballet recital. Nervous and excited = nervicited. That’s how we felt being invited to lunch with Silver Oak.

“Go ahead,” I egged Michael on. “Click ‘contact agent.’” We were stalking a property on Zillow, the only one that had really captured our attention after months of looking, trying to beat pandemic boredom in the summer of 2020. “What can it hurt?” I goaded. “We’ll just go look…”