I Love a Good Tradition…

…I love the annual Michel-Schlumberger Wine Bench Picnic even more. I already know that you do too. Or you would if you haven’t been able to attend one of our club picnics before. These undemanding, but famous gatherings are always held on a Saturday in early June, when the air starts cool in the morning and warms to a temperature just right for plenty of delicious, distinctive Benchland Wine, fine food, and plenty of friendly conversation that hovers on a human scale. 

On the morning before our picnic last Saturday, I was at home in bed watching through the window as a Swallowtail butterfly dried its wings in the early morning sun. The wings glinted and were shockingly beautiful. It was the second one I’d seen in as many days. It may have emerged from its chrysalis around dawn – about the time I began rolling out of mine. A swallowtail’s caterpillar stage favors the gauzy diet of the bronze anise that grows to eyeball height under my bedroom window. I eat anise too, though I enjoy other foods as well.

By 10 A.M. the Swallowtail fluttered about and became airborne. Whoops. Let’s try that again. Wow! Now off it went, last seen flitting northwest at great speed; it had brilliant yellow and black wings dotted with blue and a dash of red – nice and racy. I saddled up my rig and took off after it, soon mingling with a bunch of critters, winged or otherwise, heading to the 17th annual Wine Bench Picnic out at Michel-Schlumberger.

Heavy clouds began to break apart and lilt into the late forenoon sky, exposing a crowd of us being pulled down Wine Creek Road by anticipated pleasure and a big dose of tradition: Mike’s excellent wines, Tony’s natural carnival show of beneficial vineyard critters and myriad insects, sleek kayaks on the lake, lots of savory snacks, and big platters of baked chicken and a heap of lamb chops. This year, a tent full of music played by Carlos Herrera pumped out toe tapping, fiery tinged notes at the edge of the Estate’s robust organic garden where butterflies hovered about. I went looking for mine as the music welcomed us through the open gate.

Even better, Jacques and Barbara Schlumberger, who hosted us for lunch under the big oak tree, presided beforehand over a busy display of resident honeybees, bee keeping implements, and tastes of honey fresh from the comb. Jacques and Barbara have, for several years, been international advocates for the protection of honeybees and keep a large number of hives both at Michel-Schlumberger and at their home ranch (each guest went home with a prized gift of honey from their hives). The Melissa Garden, Barbara’s organic flower garden habitat for pollinators near their house is now well-known. Her flower garden tips are being applied to the beautiful bee-garden just inside the winery entrance. The flowering plants and shrubs provide food and nectar to a thousand winged insects that help keep our world healthy and balanced. The plants also enhance the banks of the restored Wine Creek that flows nearby.     

The Wine Bench is a club, for sure, that provides lots of great tastes of our vineyard throughout the year. But the picnic has evolved over the years into a personal bond that draws members from across the country, and even off-shore. This year was quite a mix: new friends, old ones, a few Texans, Ohioans, a man from Philadelphia, City folk, mountaineers and two from Costa Rican mingled easily with the day. Everyone was smiling.

Not long into the lunch, even Healdsburgundians and Southern Californians found their conversational stride. And here and there, a winery staffer chatted while pouring one of seventeen wines offered up to celebrate this year’s seventeenth annual: Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Blanc, Cabernet Franc, Coteaux Savages, and succulent aged Reserves were just some the hits of the day. The picnic was a sweet, lazy time and a perfect break from the crazy, oversized lives that we almost all have to live to maintain our toehold on the fast moving world just outside the winery gate, which, if I’m not mistaken, is where we will be waiting for you next year for the Annual Eighteenth.

Jerry Craven

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