asked if I was sure I would be all right. I wasn't sure but I said I was.
  There was a rich trail of blood from where Sean had been working into the kitchen. The kitchen floor was a mass of red and the sink was full of gore. I had to clean it before Ellie woke up. I couldn't afford to pass out but I felt light-headed and outside my body. I stopped every few minutes to put my head between my legs. My mind kept darting ahead to the hospital and what was happening to Sean. I needed to get there fast. Once the sink was clean I mopped the floor. The bucket was red with blood. I felt desperate and anxious.
  I packed a few things then woke Ellie and took her to Sonia, who promised to look after Sophia after school as well. Minutes later I was speeding along the D14, the Route des Coteaux. With Sean's accident, nothing seemed urgent except his health. Our vineyard worries were nothing when compared to life and health.
  Sean was groggy from pre-surgery drugs and strapped to a gurney waiting to go into theatre. Despite his state he asked me how we would get the vineyard trimmed now that he was in hospital. I told him not to worry, we'd work it out, then an orderly wheeled him away.
  The nurse was unable to tell me how serious Sean's injury was but she assured me that he would have to stay overnight at a minimum. I drove home lonely and exhausted with a ball of dread in the pit of my stomach, worried about Sean's health but also about the vineyard. With Sean out of action we could lose our entire harvest. If we had a few downpours and couldn't treat for fungal disease, the grapes would be lost. Trimming the vines was critical to controlling the fungal disease and that was the most urgent vineyard job, regardless of rain.
  I collected the girls and explained as simply as possible why their dad was not at home. They were remarkably calm. Jamie arrived to find out how Sean was; he hadn't been at the meeting but had already heard the news.
  We walked across the terrace. Jamie pointed to the vineyard, golden under a glorious sunset: the entire expanse was trimmed. At the bottom of Lenvège I saw François trimming the last few rows, highlighted in the glow. I rubbed my eyes partly in disbelief and partly to rub away tears of gratitude and relief. That was the spirit of our new winegrower community. I felt thoroughly humbled.
  When I phoned the hospital a little later Sean was still asleep from the anaesthetic and no one was able to give me any information on how the surgery went. I ate several rows of cherry chocolate, took two sleeping tablets and went to bed.
  The next morning we heard that the surgery went well and we could fetch Sean. He couldn't remember how the accident had happened, although it was obviously a blade on the trimmer. Sean nicknamed it 'Shark' as the gash and subsequent scar looked exactly like a shark bite. He was lucky: the cut stopped a millimetre from the major tendon in his arm. He would be off for a few weeks but if it had got the tendon it would have been several months. News of his accident spread like wildfire.
  Sean had to take it easy and make regular visits to the hospital. I couldn't drive the tractor so we prayed for good weather and no fungal growth. By the next rain, Sean was well enough to get back onto the tractor.
  Monsieur Bonny's mechanic, Ãric, came over to reconfigure the shark and to check the leak on the sprayer. After looking at them he took me aside.
  'Votre mari est trop musclé.' (Your husband is too muscly.)
  I laughed.
  'He is tightening the bolts too tight and that is what broke the casing on the sprayer.'
  Machinery was complicated; first the bolts were too loose, now they were too tight. No wonder Sean was getting a complex. He felt he couldn't touch a machine without doing it or himself some damage. Fortunately, Ãric offered this news in such a diplomatic manner,
  There was a rich trail of blood from where Sean had been working into the kitchen. The kitchen floor was a mass of red and the sink was full of gore. I had to clean it before Ellie woke up. I couldn't afford to pass out but I felt light-headed and outside my body. I stopped every few minutes to put my head between my legs. My mind kept darting ahead to the hospital and what was happening to Sean. I needed to get there fast. Once the sink was clean I mopped the floor. The bucket was red with blood. I felt desperate and anxious.
  I packed a few things then woke Ellie and took her to Sonia, who promised to look after Sophia after school as well. Minutes later I was speeding along the D14, the Route des Coteaux. With Sean's accident, nothing seemed urgent except his health. Our vineyard worries were nothing when compared to life and health.
  Sean was groggy from pre-surgery drugs and strapped to a gurney waiting to go into theatre. Despite his state he asked me how we would get the vineyard trimmed now that he was in hospital. I told him not to worry, we'd work it out, then an orderly wheeled him away.
  The nurse was unable to tell me how serious Sean's injury was but she assured me that he would have to stay overnight at a minimum. I drove home lonely and exhausted with a ball of dread in the pit of my stomach, worried about Sean's health but also about the vineyard. With Sean out of action we could lose our entire harvest. If we had a few downpours and couldn't treat for fungal disease, the grapes would be lost. Trimming the vines was critical to controlling the fungal disease and that was the most urgent vineyard job, regardless of rain.
  I collected the girls and explained as simply as possible why their dad was not at home. They were remarkably calm. Jamie arrived to find out how Sean was; he hadn't been at the meeting but had already heard the news.
  We walked across the terrace. Jamie pointed to the vineyard, golden under a glorious sunset: the entire expanse was trimmed. At the bottom of Lenvège I saw François trimming the last few rows, highlighted in the glow. I rubbed my eyes partly in disbelief and partly to rub away tears of gratitude and relief. That was the spirit of our new winegrower community. I felt thoroughly humbled.
  When I phoned the hospital a little later Sean was still asleep from the anaesthetic and no one was able to give me any information on how the surgery went. I ate several rows of cherry chocolate, took two sleeping tablets and went to bed.
  The next morning we heard that the surgery went well and we could fetch Sean. He couldn't remember how the accident had happened, although it was obviously a blade on the trimmer. Sean nicknamed it 'Shark' as the gash and subsequent scar looked exactly like a shark bite. He was lucky: the cut stopped a millimetre from the major tendon in his arm. He would be off for a few weeks but if it had got the tendon it would have been several months. News of his accident spread like wildfire.
  Sean had to take it easy and make regular visits to the hospital. I couldn't drive the tractor so we prayed for good weather and no fungal growth. By the next rain, Sean was well enough to get back onto the tractor.
  Monsieur Bonny's mechanic, Ãric, came over to reconfigure the shark and to check the leak on the sprayer. After looking at them he took me aside.
  'Votre mari est trop musclé.' (Your husband is too muscly.)
  I laughed.
  'He is tightening the bolts too tight and that is what broke the casing on the sprayer.'
  Machinery was complicated; first the bolts were too loose, now they were too tight. No wonder Sean was getting a complex. He felt he couldn't touch a machine without doing it or himself some damage. Fortunately, Ãric offered this news in such a diplomatic manner,
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