HONOR + PREPARE

WE LIVE : Live to honor those that have come before you, and to prepare the way for those yet to come."

This is the creed our family lives by.
It is not a slogan. It is not a brand. It is not for sale.
It is the contract — written in dirt, sealed in sweat, and passed hand to hand across generations.
To Honor and to Prepare — there is nothing else.

For our family, those words aren’t painted on walls or printed on paper. They live in us — stitched into our hearts, worn into our hands, whispered like prayer and promise at the same time. They are the thread that ties everything together — the past we came from, the work we’re doing, and the future we’ll never get to see but believe in anyway.

Every day, this creed is renewed in silence. Not by speeches or ceremonies, but in the small, unseen acts of devotion — the turning of soil, the lifting of barrels, the forgiveness after a hard season, the patience to start again. This is not a fleeting philosophy; it’s the architecture of our lives. The quiet conviction that meaning is built, not found — earned, not inherited.

We call it our Generational Contract.
It isn’t signed with a pen but with years, work, and care.
It’s the reason our story has weight. It’s the reason our family has roots.
To live by it means to understand that we are not the point — we are the bridge.
We stand between what was given and what must be built.
We are the link in the chain, not the end of it.

To Honor is to carry.
To carry their names, their faith, their failures, their fire.
To remember that someone came before us and broke the ground we now walk on.
It means gratitude measured not in words but in work — in the way we treat the land, the way we treat each other, the way we refuse to forget.
Honor is not nostalgia. It’s the living act of remembrance — to make something beautiful because someone once made something possible.

To Prepare is to give.
To plant without knowing who will harvest.
To build fences that will outlast our names.
To do the work anyway, because the work is the point.
It’s faith expressed as effort — a belief that what we start today will hold steady for those yet to come.
Preparation is love made tangible. It’s what separates motion from meaning.

This creed demands something from us — humility, patience, and courage.
It’s not about chasing ease or recognition.
It’s about choosing the hard way, the honest way, the long way.
It’s about faith without fanfare, purpose without audience.
It asks us to live with intention — to live like our choices echo, because they do.

In the vineyard, this belief takes shape row by row.
Each vine is a prayer for tomorrow — a living promise of continuity.
We nurture what was handed to us, not just for our own table, but for the tables that will follow.
The land teaches us what time really means — that roots deepen in struggle, that growth requires both light and shadow, that patience is not waiting, it’s working.
We are not farmers of fruit alone — we are caretakers of legacy.

In every bottle, you’ll find that same heartbeat.
We don’t make wine to impress; we make it to endure.
We make it so that when you pour a glass, you taste a story that started long before you — one written in labor and love and carried forward with reverence.
Each bottle is proof that devotion can be distilled into something tangible — something you can hold, share, and remember.

When you drink this wine, you’re not just sharing in a family’s labor — you’re sharing in its faith.
You’re joining a story that began with a promise and continues with every pour, every conversation, every moment that means something.
Our hope is that when you drink it, you feel connected — to the earth, to the work, to someone who came before, and to someone who will follow after.

To live by this creed — to Honor and to Prepare — is to walk through life knowing that what you do today is part of something much bigger than you.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not easy. But it’s real.
And that’s enough.
Because this life — this family, this work, this wine — has never failed us.
It’s not a business. It’s a belief.
And we live it every single day.