"What size of crew do we have?" Jolyon asked Alistair as he came out from the cellar where the pressing, fermentation, and bottling would occur. That was ready, what was not ready was the harvesting itself.
Alistair shook his head as he looked over his ledger. Seasonal crews were not exactly hard to find. It was balancing what they could afford to pay in wages and getting the harvest in quickly that was the problem. "I still say next year, if the funds are satisfactory, we buy a small steam driven harvesting machine, Jolyon." The elder man frowned when he said it. It was obvious he did not really want to start that discussion again, not at that moment, but felt obligated to make his point all the same.
Rubbing a hand over his scruffy chin, the beard likely to return in the week of work to come, rising at dawn to harvest and oversee the movement of the grapes through their process, Jolyon looked over the vines, and standing before them a group of anxious workers with baskets and sunhats.
It was a good day to start. The cool weather certainly would help to keep the levels of the grapes at their peak before pressing. "Maybe, Alistair, but what?s our crew this year?"
"Twenty. Twenty at least willing to work for what we can pay them and the hours they will need. Let's hope the weather holds out for us." Alistair gave another look to Jolyon. Previous discussions of magical intervention crept up in the unspoken words. That was something Jolyon would not consider.
Anyone could make a fine wine with magic involved. Part of the success was in the risk. No, machines maybe, but not magic. "Right, then let's begin." He started to walk to the vines, grabbing a stack of baskets from the others as he approached the workers with a smile.
"The cellar is ready, and we should be pressing some of the first barrels by this evening." Alistair remarked as he took up his own baskets. He had a bright childlike air to him.
Jolyon was forced to recall this was the first harvest Alistair had ever done. Last year, Hamish had been with him. Last year so much had been different. "Welcome everyone and thank you for coming to work. I know you know your business," Alistair had made sure of that, "so I look forward to working with you to bring in this harvest and sharing in the celebration at the end of it." A gesture and they all set to working, picking a row of vines, and the snap of stems began, the rustle of disturbed leaves, and the quiet hum of workers busy as bees.
Alistair shook his head as he looked over his ledger. Seasonal crews were not exactly hard to find. It was balancing what they could afford to pay in wages and getting the harvest in quickly that was the problem. "I still say next year, if the funds are satisfactory, we buy a small steam driven harvesting machine, Jolyon." The elder man frowned when he said it. It was obvious he did not really want to start that discussion again, not at that moment, but felt obligated to make his point all the same.
Rubbing a hand over his scruffy chin, the beard likely to return in the week of work to come, rising at dawn to harvest and oversee the movement of the grapes through their process, Jolyon looked over the vines, and standing before them a group of anxious workers with baskets and sunhats.
It was a good day to start. The cool weather certainly would help to keep the levels of the grapes at their peak before pressing. "Maybe, Alistair, but what?s our crew this year?"
"Twenty. Twenty at least willing to work for what we can pay them and the hours they will need. Let's hope the weather holds out for us." Alistair gave another look to Jolyon. Previous discussions of magical intervention crept up in the unspoken words. That was something Jolyon would not consider.
Anyone could make a fine wine with magic involved. Part of the success was in the risk. No, machines maybe, but not magic. "Right, then let's begin." He started to walk to the vines, grabbing a stack of baskets from the others as he approached the workers with a smile.
"The cellar is ready, and we should be pressing some of the first barrels by this evening." Alistair remarked as he took up his own baskets. He had a bright childlike air to him.
Jolyon was forced to recall this was the first harvest Alistair had ever done. Last year, Hamish had been with him. Last year so much had been different. "Welcome everyone and thank you for coming to work. I know you know your business," Alistair had made sure of that, "so I look forward to working with you to bring in this harvest and sharing in the celebration at the end of it." A gesture and they all set to working, picking a row of vines, and the snap of stems began, the rustle of disturbed leaves, and the quiet hum of workers busy as bees.