Harvest Reflections – October 2025
2025 has been a fairly late year — spring rains lingered, and even now, on October 14th, a few of our vineyards are still waiting to come in. As with last year, this harvest has been deeply emotional for me. But none more so than our pick of the van der Kamp Pinot Meunier.
I’ve been making wine with Martin, Ulysses, and now Malia for over three decades, and each year I’m reminded that there’s something truly magical about their vineyard — and the people who tend it with such grace and devotion. The van der Kamp Vineyard isn’t just a site of vines; it’s a living, breathing family legacy, a place where the land and those who care for it are inseparable.
Watching Malia, the next generation of this remarkable family, now leading harvest with skill and spirit, fills me with pride and gratitude. It’s rare to see continuity like this — people growing up among the vines, and now passing that same love and stewardship forward.
Years ago, I wrote about this vineyard and what it represents. Rereading those words today, they resonate even more deeply. Here is that reflection.
Transformations – September 2019
The day began differently from most during harvest. We weighed out two three-quarter–ton fermentors, loaded them into the back of my bullet-riddled pickup, and filled them with carbon dioxide snow before strapping the lids tight. Then, pointing the truck east, we headed up to one of the highest vineyards on Sonoma Mountain — the storied van der Kamp Vineyard — for a first-light pick of whole-cluster, carbonic maceration Pinot Meunier.
For those unfamiliar, this vineyard’s story is one of both spiritual and agricultural heritage. For millennia, it has been a meeting ground for native peoples, and even now, sweat lodges and gatherings continue here. Today, its stewards — Martin and Ulysses van der Kamp and their family — have tended this land for three generations, rooted deeply in its volcanic soils and timeless rhythms.
Our family and friends Pinot Meunier picking crew at van der Kamp vineyard
It’s difficult to capture the essence of this place — how it honors the past while cultivating hope for the future. The van der Kamps don’t just grow grapes; they grow memories, carried forward by those lucky enough to work among these vines and feel the peace of this mountain.
My wife Mara and I arrived before dawn, the eastern sky still a rumor. The air was thick with the scent of ripe fruit and damp soil. Soon it mingled with the sweat and laughter of our small picking crew — the van der Kamp family, their multi-generation vineyard workers, our own family, and a few dear friends. Among them was Jesús, visiting from Jessies Grove in the Mokelumne River AVA, eager to experience this fabled site.
As the first light spread, our headlamps went dark, and the sky bloomed in pink and ochre across the old volcanic rim. We worked in rhythm, clipping clusters of perfectly ripened Meunier. Then Malia — youngest of the van der Kamp siblings, vineyard manager, and indefatigable lifter of 45-pound lug boxes — called out for us to look up.
Overhead, hundreds of dragonflies filled the air — darting, glinting, and feasting on the insects rising with the morning warmth. Their dance mirrored our own harvest rhythm — both of us gatherers, both transforming the land’s bounty.
Dixie van der Kamp, the family matriarch, smiled as the first sunlight struck their wings. She reminded us that dragonflies symbolize transformation — a fitting omen for the day, as sunlight turned to sugar, grapes to wine, and effort to grace.
We continued to pick as the dragonflies shimmered above us. In that moment, surrounded by family, friends, and the quiet strength of the mountain, I felt the vineyard speaking — through its people, its fruit, its air.
I was transformed.
Another day of harvest. Another reason to be grateful.
In Vino Veritas,
Greg La Follette
