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My son turns eighteen this year.
That's a strange sentence to write….
because, in my mind, he'll always be the little boy running through the vineyard with dirt on his bat man boots shirtless and a thousand questions in his head. The reality is he's already taller than I am. Stronger than I am. He's becoming a man right in front of me, and somewhere along the way I realized I couldn't remember the last time I picked him up. What I can remember, with surprising clarity, is the last time I put him down. Nobody tells you when that moment is coming. One day you set your child on the ground, and without realizing it, you've crossed a line you'll never cross again. From that day forward, they carry themselves.
Last year, every bottle of Cash's Crush we sold in a single twenty-four-hour period funded my son's entire water polo team.
Every dollar went to those kids, and watching our community rally around them remains one of the proudest things we've ever done. This year feels different—not because Cash has changed, but because life has. College is just around the corner. His own adventures are beginning, and the problems he's about to face won't be scraped knees or broken skateboards anymore. Life has a way of kicking every one of us in the shins, and as much as I'd like to, I can't protect him from all of it.
Last year, every bottle of Cash's Crush we sold in a single twenty-four-hour period funded my son's entire water polo team. Every dollar went to those kids, and watching our community rally around them remains one of the proudest things we've ever done. This year feels different—not because Cash has changed, but because life has. College is just around the corner. His own adventures are beginning, and the problems he's about to face won't be scraped knees or broken skateboards anymore. Life has a way of kicking every one of us in the shins, and as much as I'd like to, I can't protect him from all of it.
What gives me peace is knowing exactly who he is.
He's still my boy. We still disappear on road trips together. We still stand shoulder to shoulder at concerts, talk about surfing, argue over superhero movies, and somehow end up solving the world's problems somewhere between Santa Barbara and wherever we're headed next. He still hugs me. He still tells me he loves me. For just a little while longer, I still get to be the man he gets to be a kid around, and I'll never take that privilege for granted.
So when we figured out how to make a wine bottle glow in the dark, there really wasn't another choice. This had to be the year.
I remember exactly what it felt like to be eighteen. Everything seemed possible. Every day held another adventure, and every new toy that came out was automatically better if it glowed in the dark. Truthfully, I still think that's true.
People keep asking us why we'd make a glow-in-the-dark wine bottle. The answer is surprisingly simple. Because life gives us plenty of reasons to grow up, but not nearly enough reasons to stay amazed. Somewhere along the way, adults convince themselves that wonder is something they're supposed to outgrow. I don't believe that for a second.
If this bottle makes someone smile, if it makes a father think about his son, if it makes a grown man turn off the lights just to watch it glow one more time, then every late night, every production challenge, and every experiment was worth it.
Cash, you're becoming the kind of man every father hopes his son becomes. You're strong without needing to prove it, kind without expecting recognition, curious about the world, and humble enough to keep learning. The world is going to take its shots at you. That's what the world does. My hope isn't that you avoid those moments. My hope is that you never let them take away the part of you that still believes life is an adventure, that still laughs easily, that still sees magic in simple things—even if it's just a wine bottle that glows in the dark.
Because that little bit of wonder is worth protecting.
Always.
Love,
Dad
🍷 THE WINE
Every vintage tells a story.
Most wineries tell the story of the weather. They talk about rainfall, growing degree days, harvest dates, and chemistry. Those things matter. We obsess over them too. But when I look back at a bottle years from now, I don't first remember the numbers. I remember where my family was in life.
This vintage tastes like another California summer on our ranch. Bright aromas of wild strawberries, ruby grapefruit, watermelon, and white peach lead into a crisp, refreshing palate that finishes clean enough to make you reach for another sip before you've finished the first. It is dry, vibrant, and full of energy—the kind of Rosé that belongs on a picnic table, a tailgate, the back porch, or anywhere stories are shared.
We cold-ferment every lot to preserve freshness and press the fruit gently so Grenache can be exactly what it wants to be: elegant, expressive, and alive. We don't make Rosé because the market demands it. We make it because some moments deserve a wine that reminds you life is supposed to be enjoyed.
And this year...
We made the bottle glow in the dark.
Not because anyone asked us to.
Because we could.
🌿 THE PLACE
Everything begins at Windmill Ranch.
Our vineyard isn't somewhere we visit. It's where we live. It's where our children learned to ride bicycles, where they chased frogs through irrigation ditches, where they learned that fences don't fix themselves and cows don't care if you're tired.
The vineyard has raised our family every bit as much as we've farmed it.
Ballard Canyon is a remarkable place to grow Grenache. Warm afternoons build flavor, cool evenings preserve acidity, and the relentless afternoon wind keeps both the vines and the people humble. The clay soils provide structure. The sandy loam adds elegance. Every harvest is another conversation between the land and the family fortunate enough to care for it.
When we say "100% Estate Grown," it isn't a marketing phrase.
It means every decision—from pruning to bottling—was made by the same family whose name appears on the label.
From our plow to your porch.
👦 THE BOY
This wine has always been about my son, Cash.
Every year we bottle another vintage, and every year I realize that the wine isn't the only thing changing. Children have a way of measuring time better than calendars ever could. One harvest they're riding in the tractor because they think it's fun. A few harvests later they're driving it because you trust them to.
Cash turns eighteen this year.
That sentence lands differently than I expected it would.
He's taller than I am now. Stronger than I am. One day I realized I couldn't remember the last time I picked him up. But I could remember the last time I put him down. Funny how fathers remember things like that. No one tells you those ordinary moments are actually milestones until they've already passed.
He's become the kind of young man every father hopes to raise. He works because the work needs doing. He says "thank you" without being reminded. He opens doors for people. He laughs easily. He still loves surfing, road trips, concerts, superhero movies, and conversations that somehow begin with nonsense and end with philosophy.
Most importantly...
He still hugs his mom.
He still tells us he loves us.
For now, I still get to be the man he gets to be a kid around.
I know that season won't last forever.
Maybe that's why I appreciate it more than ever.
💀 THE BOTTLE
People keep asking us the same question.
"Why would you make a glow-in-the-dark wine bottle?"
I think they're asking the wrong question.
The real question is...
Why wouldn't we?
When I was a kid, anything that glowed in the dark was automatically better. Shoes. Toys. Stickers. If it glowed, I wanted it.
Truthfully...
I still do.
Somewhere along the way adults convince themselves wonder is something we're supposed to outgrow. I don't believe that. I think wonder is one of the few things worth protecting.
So when we learned it might actually be possible to screen-print a wine bottle using glow-in-the-dark ink, there wasn't much discussion.
We had to try.
Months later, after countless conversations, artwork revisions, ink tests, and production experiments, we finally held it in our hands.
A bottle that shines in the sunlight...
and comes alive after dark.
Some things don't need a better reason than making people smile.
🖤 THE WHY
Last year we did something that made me incredibly proud.
For one day, every dollar from every bottle of Cash's Crush went directly to my son's water polo team.
Our community showed up.
By the end of the day, those sales had fully funded the entire season.
Watching that happen reminded me why we've never really been in the wine business.
We're in the people business.
Wine is simply the excuse.
It's the thing sitting in the middle of the table while families reconnect.
It's what gets opened when old friends come to town.
It's what turns dinner into a conversation that lasts until midnight.
This bottle isn't really about glow-in-the-dark ink.
It's about remembering that growing older doesn't mean growing old.
Life moves fast.
One day you're teaching your son to ride a bike.
The next you're watching him become a man.
You can't stop time.
You can't slow it down.
But every now and then...
You can bottle a moment before it slips away.
That's what this wine is.
📦 THE DETAILS
Vintage: 2024
Varietal: 100% Grenache Rosé
AVA: Ballard Canyon
Vineyard: Windmill Ranch
Farming: 100% Estate Grown
Winemaking: Cold Fermented • Direct Press • Stainless Steel Aged
Bottle: Specialty Glow-in-the-Dark Screen Print
Production: Limited
Serve: Cold.
Drink: With people you love.
🏁 FINAL WORD
If I could leave my son with one thing, it wouldn't be money.
It wouldn't be land.
It wouldn't even be this winery.
I'd leave him with the ability to walk into every room carrying his own light.
The world is going to test him. It'll disappoint him, challenge him, and occasionally knock him flat on his back. That's true for all of us.
My hope isn't that he avoids those moments.
It's that he never lets them take away the parts of him that matter most—his kindness, his curiosity, his generosity, his sense of wonder, and the joy that makes people want to be around him.
This bottle glows because we figured out how.
My son glows because of who he is.
That's something no darkness can ever take away.
Love,
Dad
