Observing Alsace
by VGCLJ member Barbara Berman
Mountains certain plants work overtime. At the beginning of each row of grape vines in
Alsace, there is what seems to be an especially nice touch: a flowering rosebush. Each
small patch of the vineyard has long lines of dark green punctuated by clusters of red.
The French do things well, but not necessarily for pleasure. These are the people who
make good food out of horse hooves or the odd weed or two, or strange, expensive
fungi on oak roots. The roses are there because they can detect infestation about two
weeks before grape vines are irreparably damaged. If you see the roses brown and
drooping, it means that you have that amount of time to have the vineyards sprayed by
crop dusters. The Gewurtztraminer Hugel is safe for another year, and so is
the local economy.
Nothing is more characteristic of France than stone buildings with window boxes full of
geraniums. Houses in towns like Eguisheim are dazzling in their displays of
every color known to art and to the seed catalog. But the geraniums are also on the job.
They deter flies and, in a country without many air conditioners or screens, they
make life indoors considerably better. They project an invisible barrier between window
and street, carrying over a serious function from premodern times to now.
