We did a thing.

Drinking a glass of Tempranillo, standing next to one of our new field bins.

We did a thing.

Every great adventure begins with an outlandish idea. Steve and I bought a whole bunch of winemaking equipment from a colleague who was moving to a houseboat and can’t make wine anymore.

Since we’re in our 40s, we’re going to make wine instead of making a baby. A little wine baby. I’m going to hold plump little grapes in my hands and hug them and kiss them and love them and guide them and nurture them into what they’re meant to be.

We rented a U-Haul to pick everything up. I could hardly contain my excitement about this huge move to start making our little baby together. We got a great deal on an operation that will allow us to make up to 10 tons of wine at a time—field bins, fermenters, a press, a bottling machine, and so much more stuff.

We had a glass of Tempranillo with my colleague and his wife that they had made with this equipment, and it was delicious. They gave us all sorts of advice and offers to help.

I know, you’re wondering, “Wait, what the hell? How did you decide to do this? What is happeninggg??”

Yes, we sort of rushed into this, and it feels good.

Here’s the story. A few months ago, I brought Steve to my family’s vineyard to spend time with my mom. My dad died a year ago, and my grief was sudden, all-encompassing, and confusing in a way I did not anticipate. It made me angry at my family, so I didn’t see my mom or visit the family vineyard for several months, other than to attend my dad’s memorial. Even then, I stayed at an AirBNB and left the next day. During that period of grief, I connected with Steve, who had been a friend for many years. I started noticing that Steve would frequently remind me of the best, funniest things about my dad. I was delighted when I visited his place in Battle Ground for the first time and saw the unfinished projects all over his property. I was giddy when Steve insisted on pulling over to look at a pile of free stuff on the side of the road. Every little thing he did like this brought me so much joy. Mind you, I never once dated anyone who reminded me of my dad. We had a complicated relationship, and it may be that if I started dating Steve while my dad was still alive, I’d have been repelled by any behaviors that reminded me of him. But in my grief, seeing the best, funniest parts of my dad in Steve helped me to heal and brought the twinkle back to my eyes. I found myself increasingly able to celebrate who my dad was, rather than being sad and angry about everything we had lost.

I was eager to reconnect with my mom and have her meet Steve. She traveled to Portland for Mother’s Day, and we had a lovely time, and she got to meet him. A couple of weeks later, I drove down to the vineyard to spend time with her. Steve was at a weekend campout that he’d been planning to attend for months, so he didn’t make it. I brought him down to the vineyard for the first time in June, and he loved it. We did a walk around the vineyard every morning with coffee in hand, and every evening with a glass of wine in hand. We visited other tasting rooms in Umpqua Valley. It was a magical weekend.

Steve was falling in love with the vineyard, and at the same time, I was realizing how uniquely suited to winemaking he would be. He has degrees in Chemistry, Mechanical Engineering, and an MBA. He was a former luxury car mechanic at his family’s business. He was a former homebrewer. The Chemistry degree and homebrewing experience are obvious qualifications, but I happen to know a few other things about the wine business. Number 1: Shit is always breaking, and being able to understand, work with, maintenance, and repair machines is a huge asset to a winery; hence, the Mechanical Engineering degree and background as a mechanic would come in handy. Number 2: Wine is a business, and if you’re going to have a winery, you need to understand how to run a business; hence, the MBA and background in the family business would be useful. Number 3: Wine is a luxury product (#notallwines), so that background working with customers who have luxury cars would come in handy.

The man loves a pile of free stuff on the side of the road.

As I was thinking about how uniquely suited to the winemaking business Steve would be, he mentioned he was considering planting grape vines on his property. I couldn’t blame him. The vineyard is beautiful. Being there is romantic. But knowing how challenging and expensive the viticulture business is, and how long it is until you have wine to sell, I suggested he start by making wine before committing to planting a vineyard.

Look at all the stuff we got!

At first, it was a “hmmm…yes, something to think about for the future” sort of thing, but it all escalated rapidly from there. A couple weeks later, on a listserv I’m a member of, I saw a post from a colleague who was selling his winemaking equipment. I screenshotted the email and sent it to Steve. He said it was intriguing, but he couldn’t fathom spending that much money for something he wasn’t sure would be a long-term thing. I asked him how much he’d be willing to spend. He told me the number, and I emailed my colleague, telling him that I didn’t mean to insult him with a lowball offer, but that this was the max my partner was willing to spend. To my surprise, he said yes, and that he was glad it would be going to a good home all in one piece.

From there, we thought, well, if we make good wine, we want to be able to sell it. We should start a business and get licensed and permitted. Just so you understand, I don’t like doing things half-ass. I don’t want to be tied to something half-ass. I am a person who gives my all to things. I like people to know that whether they are looking to me for legal advice, making wine, or planning a party, that it will be something that reflects whole-assedness.

So that’s how we got here. Next, we form the business, build the winery at Steve’s place, get the permits and licenses, and make some wine.

Easy, right?