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ing while we developed new vineyard plantings. The new plantings would then help Gar-
rigue to pay its way. We would have to work hard to put bread on the table.
No one in their right mind would stick with this business. No investor on earth would
touch it, but I had left my consulting roots long ago. I had found a discipline I loved,
something that was awesome, demanding and vibrant.
'It's what I want, SF. We've come too far to give up. I love this place. I get up in the morn-
ing with energy.'
'I agree, Carolinus. We have to make it a success. There is too much potential to throw it
away.'
We took Garrigue off the market. Knowing we would not be rethinking our decision again
waspurerelease.Wehaddecidedtostay.Wewouldpursuethisdreamtoitsend.Theprevi-
oustwelvemonthsofconstantquestioningofthefuturewereover.Wewouldmakeitwork.
We were following something beyond logic, an ancient profession greater than ourselves.
We couldn't afford new things, the girls had hand-me-down clothes, as did I, Sean's gear
was more hole than cloth, but we were living and feeling more deeply than ever before.
We were also settling in the community. Each year the arts exhibition in the Château de
Saussignac was accompanied by a lunch
à l'espagnole
, a bring and share, set out in the
garden on long trestle tables. When I arrived at my third Arts au Château festival opening
I found a huge photo of Sean, taken by Timothy White, a photographer who co-owned one
of the towers of Saussignac Castle, at the entrance. The photo captured the essence of Sean,
the vigneron. In the line-up he was alongside village powers like the mayor, the president
of the
syndicat
of Saussignac and François, the chef at the Lion d'Or. Sean had arrived.
With a few intensive language classes behind him he could now hold his own at a French
dinner party. We were slowly transforming from outsiders to insiders.
The following evening we sat down to a dinner 100 per cent grown by us. Our own or-
ganic white wine, potatoes pulled from the earth an hour before, fresh chives, mayonnaise
made from our own eggs, a salad made from edible weeds, herbs and hardy greens like
rocket that survived erratic gardening. It was a meal that beat a grand feast, bursting with
flavour, truth and freshness.
I pushed my chair back from the table and proposed a toast to Garrigue and Sean's green
fingers.Ifelthumbleandgratefulforwhatwehad,insteadofharassedaboutwhatwedidn't
have. We were taking a risk but we were living. This was not the safe option but it was
our option. It was more than a job. It was our lives. Yes, there were no weekends off but
