Winter on the Vineyard
Reflection and Resilience.
Winter at Phelps Creek Vineyards is both reflective and perhaps surprisingly—busy. The season begins with a rush of holiday sales that keeps us focused squarely on our guests and wine community, often leaving little time to pause. Each year, the rhythm culminates with our New York–style New Year’s Eve celebration in the tasting room.
New York New Years Eve 2025
Now in our sixties, Lynette and I appreciate the elegance of watching the ball drop when it still means being tucked into bed by 10:00 p.m., electric blanket firmly in place. This year’s celebration, however, was hard to resist lingering over. Cold but dry weather set the stage for our best event yet: a packed tasting room, a great band, champagne flowing freely, and a live projection of Times Square’s full-blown madness on our newly installed 150-inch screen. Confetti flew, the room buzzed with energy, and even as a few of us quietly checked the clock, it felt like the perfect close to another year.
Moments like these invite reflection, especially on how far we’ve come since our early Hood River days in the early 1990s. Back then, snow wasn’t a novelty…it was a lifestyle. We were routinely buried, and a true rite of passage involved getting your vehicle stuck somewhere along our mile-long driveway. Salvation usually arrived in the form of a seasoned local with a massive 4×4 truck and a winch, calmly extracting you from a snowbank as if it were second nature.
Earlier days…
Eventually, every car we owned evolved into a full-blown winter rig with studded tires. But in those early days, I still managed more than once, to high-center my car near the creek. That meant trudging back up to the house in pilot dress shoes to fetch the tractor and dig myself out. After repeating this lesson a few times, I learned to keep boots in the car. Experience is a great teacher—once you survive it.
When Irineo began working with us full time, winter life became noticeably easier. I could call from Japan and say, “I’ll be home around midnight…how’s the road?” Later, when we bought a tractor with a heated cab and roof-mounted lights, even nighttime plowing became almost enjoyable.
Our sweet Rosie. Best supervisor ever.
And through all of it, Rosie ran that driveway.
Sun, rain, snow, mud, frost. She didn’t care. She knew every bend and rise, every season by heart. Long before the cars were winter-ready, she was. Watching her fly up and down that mile-long stretch felt like watching the vineyard itself breathe. She was part of the rhythm here, part of the welcome, part of the story.
The vines have never been the concern. Columbia Gorge winters may be cold, but they are ideal for cool-climate grape growing. The vines benefit from a deep, true dormancy and often produce their best fruit after a hard winter rest. In especially cold years—like 2009—we’re even gifted frozen grapes for ice wine. Snow acts as insulation, protecting graft unions and keeping the vines safe and content beneath its quiet blanket.
So don’t worry about the vines. If anything, spare a thought for the vineyard owners living in a house heated by fireplaces, a wood stove, and a rotating collection of space heaters. The lack of central heat is a long story involving damaged geothermal lines, prolonged bachelorhood, and eventually marrying a woman from Canada who is fully adapted to bitter winters. My good fortune in meeting Lynette in Hong Kong is something else entirely to reflect on during long winter nights.
And reflection, after all, is what January does best.
