MY THIRD ACT
A WINE
ESCAPE
We live in a field that likes to pretend it’s a farm. A 14-acre field just a stone’s throw from the city limits of Spokane. It’s got it all—noxious weeds, a herd of deer, a little farmstead slouching modestly on its cobble foundation, and an orchard so old that it rivals the spooky tree scene at the beginning of the Wizard of Oz. And a production winery, alas, 4,000 square feet of one. Look to the South from our property and you’ll see Ponderosa pine-covered hills, Spokane’s signature vibe. Look to the West and you see the demarcation line between farms and suburbs, the old and the new West. The sea of new houses comes closer to us each month but hasn’t jumped the road yet. Change is definitely coming and maybe that’s just fine. But I’m not thinking about the urban growth boundary tonight. On the nightly walk back from the winery to the house, I always try and take stock. Anyone can take stock and reflect on the big things in life, but I think older people like me are particularly good at it. I’ve lived long enough and had enough of a complicated life to appreciate the luxury of being able to walk across a scratchy grass field at sunset and think about how fortunate we truly are.
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3rd Act magazine | fall 2021
Drs. Phil and Patricia Butterfield
Our third act journey, from engineering and academia to winemaking by Dr. Patricia Butterfield
It’s hard to write about winemaking without sounding completely full of yourself. It’s a topic inextricably linked to hubris and ego. Starting a winery requires only a love for the fantasy of winemaking (and a seemingly endless stream of money). Staying with a winery requires much, much more. It requires a deep love of a slow craft. After five years we’re finally getting there—thanks in no small part to my husband, a man who is an impresario of projects. Every day is project day for Dr. Phil Butterfield. Recent projects included bottling Malbec, topping barrels, and finding a better cork supplier. Then there are those projects that involve setting up blending trials and killing—albeit in the most humane way possible— vagrant ground squirrels. Not quite the “Town and Country” version of winery ownership that people imagine. Rather, it’s our version—power washing equipment late into the night during the fall harvest, hearing the busy hum of winery guests all summer, and learning to become a germ-free zone www.3rdActMag.com
