Because of yesterday’s rest day, we had to leave at 5 a.m. for a more distant vineyard, working straight through until 1 p.m. This also marked our last day working in Champagne.
During this long eight-hour stretch, I found myself thinking about three things:
1. Physical work in a vineyard brings instant rewards
Whether it’s seeing the dramatic difference in the vines before and after tressage, or feeling yourself become more skilled with the work, the sense of achievement is immediate. It’s the kind of instant gratification that desk jobs rarely provide.
2. But I probably couldn’t do this long-term
Novelty is addictive—you start completely clueless, and then slowly master a new skill. The satisfaction and sense of accomplishment that come from putting in physical work under the sun can be intoxicating. But while I was working, I kept thinking: if this vineyard were mine, would I work as happily as Florance does—singing and swaying as she goes?
I don’t think I would. Once you know exactly how to do something, and you know exactly how it will turn out, the excitement fades…
So, I’d probably hire someone to do it for me. After all, owning a vineyard in Champagne must mean I’m rich, right? (Haha, just daydreaming…)
3. I might not love Pinot Noir as much anymore
During our days in Champagne, we worked with all three legally approved grape varieties: Chardonnay, Pinot Meunier, and Pinot Noir. Today was all about Pinot Noir.
While tressage-ing, I noticed that Pinot Noir behaves very differently from the other two. Its grapes rot easily and the vines are fragile, snapping with the slightest mistake. Every time I accidentally broke a vine, I thought: this grape lacks resilience, like a pampered rich girl needing extra care. When I only drank the wine, I never really noticed this about Pinot Noir.
Being in the vineyard, up close with the vines, made me truly admire Chardonnay. Its wild, resilient growth is remarkable—it thrives even in poor soil, survives various pruning methods, and can withstand periods of neglect.
While reflecting on this, I couldn’t help but wonder about fairness in nature. Chardonnay is so resilient that it’s grown all over the world—but precisely because it’s everywhere, it’s sometimes looked down on by winemakers and consumers as “common.”
Moments like this make me realize that working the land is almost a form of meditation. 👇👇
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