pendragon orchard and vine

Before sunrise, I walk the wind-cut rows of my winter garden on Orcas, gathering lettuce, kale, and collards for breakfast. As frost clings to the leaves, I’m reminded of my grandfather’s wartime garden—how his acre kept neighbors alive when winter meant scarcity, not inconvenience. That memory becomes a doorway into older worlds where people survived the cold without refrigerators, grocery stores, or modern rescue.

And so, wine grape establishment in the Seattle climate becomes less about planting and more about designing a dialogue—between root and rainfall, between leaf and wind, between earth, wind, and wire.

The first act of cultivation is not planting — it’s inquiry. Test the soil. Read its chemistry and its silence. Some soils are burdened — with metals, residues, or exhaustion from years of extraction. Others are simply asleep, waiting to be woken. You must know which you have before asking it to feed you.

Growing grapes west of the Cascades isn’t about chasing the biggest names—it’s about matching what you plant to the heat, soil, and season you actually have. Varieties that ripen in 1400–2300 GDD and rootstocks that can handle pests, low pH, and wet soils are the difference between fruit worth crushing and years of disappointment. Like raising kids, success comes from giving them the right foundation and the right place to grow.

Every olive carries history in its roots — Athens crowned with Athena’s gift, Noah reading the branch as landfall, empires rising and falling while the trees still bore fruit. To plant one here is to graft that long memory into Northwest soil, a wager that what endured for millennia might endure again.

You can grow wine grapes in Western Washington—if you pick the right varieties and stay ahead of powdery mildew. Forget the mystique; with soil, sun, water, and patience, a backyard vineyard is within reach.