Excerpt from The Grape Philosopher’s Journal: "What is the most important thing in a grape’s life?"

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Intro: The Grape Philosopher is Andrew’s ongoing practice of reflection from inside the vineyard — not after the season ends, not once decisions are safely behind him, but in the middle of the work itself. Pruning. Farming. Paying attention. Asking questions that don’t have quick answers.

These posts aren’t written to explain wine. They exist to examine judgment, restraint, responsibility, and time — the forces that quietly shape great farming long before anyone tastes the result.

Some entries are practical. Some are philosophical. Most sit somewhere in between. All of them are rooted in lived experience, not theory.

At Moctoe, we believe in Wine that Values the Boots in the Field. The Grape Philosopher is one way that value shows up — as thought made visible, and decisions taken seriously.

This is not content. It’s a record of how a farmer thinks.

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The First Question I Asked the Vineyard

When I finally took responsibility for my first vineyard—not just working in one, but running it—I asked a simple question:

"What is the most important thing in a grape’s life?"

It took me two full seasons to answer that honestly. Not with theory. Not with dogma. But with observation, failure, correction, and patience.

Since then, I’ve spent more than a decade testing and refining that answer across different regions, varieties, rootstocks, and soil types. Same question. Same discipline. Three governing principles, applied differently depending on place.

Those principles have guided every decision I’ve made in the vineyard—and they will remain my focus until I can no longer walk the rows myself.

That’s how important they are.

Even if they seem deceptively simple.

What is the First Principle?

There’s a rule I come back to whenever I’m managing a complex system:

Anything that is subservient to something else is not as important as its master.

I call this the “First Principle equation.” Identify what everything else answers to.

Here’s what I mean.

Nitrogen does not move through soil without water. Sunlight, while coming from the sky, is still controlled by water through canopy growth.

Too much water, and shoots grow long and unchecked. The canopy shades itself. Sunlight is lost. Too little water, and the fruit is left exposed. In warm regions, berries burn. In cooler regions, the vine lacks the leaf area needed to ripen fruit properly.

So while we talk endlessly about nutrients and sun exposure, water is the lever that governs both.

That’s not philosophy. That’s physics.

So, What is the most important thing in a grape’s life?

“What About Dry Farming?”

I can already hear the objections.

“What about dry-farmed vineyards?”

Same principles. Different tools.

The earliest vineyards in France weren’t planted randomly. They were chosen for their drainage and their ability to hold just enough water for the rainfall those regions received.

In dry-farmed systems, water is controlled through:

• Plant spacing

• Rootstock selection

• Site selection

In irrigated regions, the same rules apply—but we gain the ability to add water when needed.

And in desert regions—like where we farm—we have something rare:

Near-total control.

The Power (and Responsibility) of Control

When I say we have 100% irrigation control, I mean this:

If we do not irrigate before bloom, nine times out of ten, there will be no fruit.

That level of control allows us to shape the vine before fruit even sets. We can influence:

• Shoot development

• Shoot caliper

• Shoot length

• Berry size

• Phenolic density

More consistently, and more precisely, than almost anywhere else.

But control is not about force. It’s about timing. Restraint. And knowing when not to act.

From Boot to Bottle

On our The Farmers Mic blog page, we share videos that dive deeper into how we define and manage these elements in the vineyard—how we apply the principles, not just talk about them.

This is the deep end. Not everyone wants to go there.

But if you do, I’ll walk you through it—row by row, decision by decision.

And if you’re curious what this way of thinking tastes like in the bottle, you can explore that here.

Because in the end, the vineyard always speaks.

The wine finishes the sentence.