There is a moment every spring when the vines weep. It only lasts for a day or two and it has just now begun. Warmed by the spring sun, their sap begins to flow upward from the trunk and out to the tips of the fruiting canes. Eventually as the sap arrives at a pruning cut it will drip out through the opening, catching the light of the soft spring sun and fall to the ground. The flow is so fast that as I scan a few acres of the vineyard I see hundreds of droplets falling from the canes in a dance; round sparkles of nature. It is like a gentle rain dripping from the fruiting wire falling only two feet to the ground.
When I see this beautiful moment I remember an ancient Mauri story about why the sky rains: Many of us are familiar with the Earth being referred to as Mother Earth, but if there is a Mother, where is the Father? The Father is the sky and the totality above. The rain that comes from Father Sky to Mother Earth is symbolic of the powerful love between them. Father Sky gazes down to Mother Earth and feels so lonely for her beauty that he weeps and offers his tears to Her, creating the blessing of nourishing rain.
I feel that this story is the same between the vines and the earth. At the moment the sun has assured all living creatures that spring has emerged the vines look back upon the harsh winter and the frozen earth. They weep for the four months of loneliness that they have spent silent and apart from the earth that is their mother. And they weep for joy that now they are together again teeming with life.
Right now, as I sit overlooking the vineyard at 6:00 pm, the sun is beginning to soften and drop closer to the tree line. The color of the light is a buttery spring yellow so different from the lavender and grey of the winter evening. In a few weeks time the vineyard floor will be golden with millions of dandelions reflecting the spring sun and suddenly budbreak in the vines will happen.