"It is impossible to win the race unless you venture to run, impossible to win the victory unless you dare to battle.” ~ Richard M. DeVos

July 5, 2012:  As Gilda Radnor used it say, "It just goes to show, it's always something."

We got past the challenge of winter frosts, snow, hail, etc. We had gorgeous fruit set. This was going to be THE YEAR. The fruit looked gorgeous. We've exponentially improved our winemaking skills -- even have lab equipment and started doing chemistry, for God's sake.

And what happens? Locust. The casual reader may be thinking, "Seriously, are there still locust? Isn't that a bible kind of thing?" Well, this tired rancher is here to tell you that the swarm was either locust or really mean, irked, but well-organized grasshoppers.

We've seen one or two for the last three weeks and were spraying the recommended "friendly" sprays, so as not to disrupt the friendly flora and fauna. That's like treating sepsis with Bactine. When the damage, such as that which occurred in the photo began appearing rapidly yesterday, we got out the big guns, Macho. Spraying went on most of yesterday, but let's face it, we're surrounded by acres and acres of grasslands on all four sides, and there is only so much one guy can do with a backpack sprayer.

The remains of the day are sweeping up dead insects, which are everywhere. They were even in my hair yesterday (but they were removed prior to entry into the dwelling.) Today, we will survey everything and assess the damage. We lost most of the lavender crop. They only ate the buds, so we still have to cut down all the plants -- nothing like having to harvest with no product in the end. We will cut the fruit off the damaged vines and give them some nutrition to try to prompt some leaf growth before the end of the season.

The good news is that while we lost all the lavender and a lot of grapevines, we won yesterday's battle and still have a good remainder of Zinfandel, half the Petite Sirah, and all the Cab. The olives are still minding their own business and growing like champs. We are closely guarding them. We will continue to spray until we have to leave and get one more thorough spraying in before we net and hope that we continue to win the battles, and then possibly the war.

Until then, we continue to mutter those platitudes to each other that are supposed to make us feel better, things like, "Well, at least we have our health (sort of )" or "At least the house didn't burn down," but always at the back of our minds -- and spoken last night -- was the thought that we have been growing and nurturing these vines for six years and some force of nature always befalls them, whether deer or drought or heat or hail and freezes, and one cannot help but wonder if we will ever have wine. Maybe this prairie is just too tough for these pioneers.

Heading out to cut off all that beautiful fruit, that could have been . . .