records the library of wines
We are small. Our hands, our feet, our minds are in the wine. We make wine from vineyards that are distinguished sometimes by being ignored. Our wine often does not resemble other wines, but we are not renegades. We are students. Our projects are not always experiments-- sometimes we know what we are doing-- but they are always acts of emulation, looking up at the work of others we admire.

Thus, "scholium," from the Greek <<scholion>>, which shares the same root as "school, scholarship." It signifies a modest project, not a preeminent one, undertaken for the sake of learning, understanding– hence a commentary, an essay, a study.

But no matter how much we learn, no matter how interesting our studies, if the wines do not bring pleasure, they are worthless.

It is now July. We are preparing for harvest-- it might come this year before the end of the month. It seems unbelievable. We have not yet adjusted to Summer. We have only just finished Spring bottlings and are beginning to release the wines. Each of these marks a pole and axis in our lives: harvest is at once the beginning of everything in winemaking, but the end of a year, many year's, work in farming. Bottling is for us an end: our final activity before we hand the wine over to you. In that way, it is a beginning too; bottling is the condition for disseminating the wine, the foundation for putting it into your hands, your mouths, your bellies. We do so thoughtfully and in anticipation of your pleasure.

  brenna filling barrels