This Allocation feels like Summer Love—the kind that hits like a spark and leaves like a scar. It’s the heat of a late August kiss, the kind of night that makes you believe in forever. It’s barefoot in the grass, hearts too big for our chests, laughing before we learned about loss. This isn’t wine—it’s memory. Blood, Sweat, Tears and SOUL. The soundtrack of youth and the silence after the car pulls away. These bottles carry that joy, that ache—that impossible joy of something fleeting and too beautiful to last. They’re a time machine to the version of you who lived with your foot on the gas and your heart wide open. Nothing gold can stay—but you loved it anyway. AHHH, SUMMER. We Will never stop chasing you. -
We Love you too much.

19 | GRADUATION DAY — DRINK IN AUGUST

Drink this one in August. This is Brielle’s wine. Always has been. Since she was five, out in the vineyard, tasting fruit and learning how to check seeds. It was always the first pick of harvest, and every year since it’s had her face, her story, and her steps in it. This bottle is the moment a little girl becomes a woman. It’s the culmination of every bottle before it—Daddy’s Girl, The Iron Lady, 10 through 18—and now, 19. The day after high school. The last summer at home. The next mile marker. It’s not just bright and crisp. It’s personal. I didn’t start this business for wine. I started it to feed his kids. I planted grapes where there used to be apples, put his back into it, and never looked back. Brielle helped paint the walls of the tasting room. Ate pizza on the concrete. Woke up at 4am to harvest. Now she’s a business major at TCU, interning at the Reagan Ranch, carrying that farmer’s work ethic with her into the world. This bottle is for the parents. For the ones who did their best. Who showed up. Who let go. Drink this when you’re proud. Drink this when you need to remember why it all matters. Drink this and know—you did good.

The kind of wine you drink when you’re looking at your child, and realizing they’ve become everything you ever hoped—and more. This bottle is named for a day. But it’s made of a lifetime.

HONYOCKER — DRINK IN SEPTEMBER

September bottle. And man, what a ride this one is. The label? That’s Keith’s 1971 Pinzgauer with a surfboard sticking out the back, parked in Ventura after a surf with Brielle. The wine? A complete accident turned masterpiece. Back in harvest, there was extra fruit—Grenache Blanc, Syrah, Mourvèdre—just hanging there. Nobody wanted it. It was like trying to sell Christmas trees on December 26th. Keith’s dad couldn’t bear to see it wasted. He told him to take it. “I won’t charge you until later.” So they picked it. Reds and whites, all in the same bin. No plan. Just heart. And what came out is one of the most original wines ever made. It doesn’t exist anywhere else. Never found a Grenache Blanc + Syrah + Mourvèdre blend before or since. If you’ve never had wine—this is for you. If you’ve had everything under the sun—this is for you. Light. Floral. A little pep. It’s not a leather-bound novel. It’s a bouquet of white and red roses. It’s September in a bottle. A surfboard on a Swiss military vehicle. A contradiction you didn’t expect to love, but you do. Drink it when the sky starts to whisper fall.

MISCHIEF — DRINK IN OCTOBER

This wine doesn’t need to shout—it knows what it is. On the label is Brady Saarloos. The brother to Cash, even if they’re technically cousins. This is Grenache Noir grown on El Camino Real, same vine stock as Mayhem (Cash’s wine from Windmill Ranch), but raised in different dirt. It’s the perfect example of terroir—same DNA, totally different outcome. Just like them. Brady’s a California kid raised in Texas. Cash is a Texas kid raised in California. This wine sits right between summer and fall. The light’s changing. The air’s thicker. But you’re not quite ready to say goodbye. Mischief is your go-to. It’s the Paul Rudd of wine. Everyone likes it. It’s the first bottle gone at every party. Doesn’t matter if you like Pinot, Syrah, or Cab—you’re going to love this. It’s pizza and prime rib. It’s farmer’s wine. Winemaker’s wine. Drinker’s wine. Drink it in October. Pop it open on a perfect night. Sit on the porch, tell a story, and let the sun dip just a little lower.


GRIT - RED ONLY SUBSTITUTE —

This one’s different. 100% Petit Verdot. No blend. No backup. Just raw, beautiful strength. The label? A photo from Keith’s father’s funeral during the 2020 lockdown. Every grandkid loaded into the back of a 1950 Chevy, driving down an empty street. No hearse. No fanfare. Just family and legacy. That’s grit. Not loud. Not flashy. Just showing up when it counts. This wine has backbone. It’s a punch in a velvet glove. Most people blend with Petit Verdot. We let it stand alone. Because that’s what grit does. It stands. Drink this in August, when the sun is heavy, and the air hums with everything you haven’t said yet. Drink it in honor. In memory. In gratitude. For who you’ve lost. For who you’ve become.

These wines aren’t just what we made—they’re what we lived. Grapes we planted in the same dirt we raised our children in. Picked in the dark. Prayed over. Loved. Designed. Bottled. Shared. These bottles are handshakes. Time capsules. And proof that we were here. That we worked. That we loved each other enough to make something that lasts.

From our plow to your porch—thank you for being part of it.

– Keith SaarloosFrom our Plow to your Porch,