Welcome week, Southern Hemisphere edition. π± While the northern hemisphere is packing away its summer whites, Adelaide is waking up to early spring β and on the University of Adelaide's Waite Campus at Urrbrae, the teaching vineyard is quietly breaking bud. This is where Australia teaches the world to make wine: the Bachelor of Viticulture and Oenology runs its first year between the North Terrace campus and the National Wine Centre of Australia, then moves students out to the winery and vineyard at Waite β a campus born from pastoralist Peter Waite's bequest of his Urrbrae estate, and now the largest agricultural teaching and research precinct in the Southern Hemisphere. Some 70% of Australia's wine research happens here, shoulder-to-shoulder with the Australian Wine Research Institute in the Wine Innovation Central building. And since Adelaide joined the Great Wine Capitals Global Network in July 2016, you could argue this whole city is one big faculty of wine.
So today I played student. Crisp white blouse, pleated skirt, a head full of tasting notes and absolutely no discipline whatsoever. Come study with me. πβ¨
The Barr Smith's morning light is a whole personality β it pours through the tall arched windows and lands on my textbook like it's highlighting the exam for me. White cotton blouse, collar slightly open because lecture halls are stuffy, and one empty crystal glass beside my notes β a girl needs her tasting bench set up before 9am, non? I looked up from the page and caught my own reflection in the window: all discipline, until the half-smile gives me away.
Practical class at Waite: rows of vines still gnarled and winter-bare, but look closer β tiny green shoots everywhere, the vintage of 2027 literally uncurling in real time. I took my field notebook down the rows in an ivory sundress and a sage cardigan slipping off one shoulder, the breeze doing that thing where it turns you into a perfume commercial. Golden light through the young leaves, eucalyptus in the distance. I glanced back mid-stride to check if anyone noticed I'd been talking to the vines. The vines noticed. πΏ
When the library closes, the National Wine Centre keeps a light on β corner of Botanic Road and Hackney Road, right beside the Botanic Garden, and run by the University of Adelaide since 2003. It's where first-years learn the science; tonight it's where I unlearned my posture. Hair down, top buttons undone, wool throw over my knees, one glass of pale-straw Clare Valley riesling and a stack of tasting cards I've half-memorized. I held the glass at lip level and thought about how the best notes are always the ones you write alone. π
π« Four campuses in four weeks β Davis, Dijon, Geisenheim, Cornell β and I saved Adelaide for spring, when the vines are shy and I'm anything but. Stay curious, chΓ©rieβ¦ next week the schedule says something about a night behind the bar. Bring a designated driver. π·
