“The Walls” was originally meant as a play on the Washington State Penitentiary, Walla Walla’s least talked about but perhaps most notorious landmark, and one that loomed just down the street from where our first wines were made. Since 1886, the “Walls” or “Concrete Mama” has surreptitiously presided over the ebb and flow of this little town, lives frozen inside while outside, growth and progress eddy past. You can’t drive into Walla Walla -- to drink wine, play golf, spend time with friends and family -- and not think about life behind those walls.
This contradiction is also a personal one as walls have become metaphors in all of our lives -- we put up walls to protect our hearts, we toil within the walls of work constraints, we build walls to defend what’s important to us. Nevertheless, as we build walls we’re also always looking for ways we can tear them down. Wine is the river that can overflow, subvert and topple these walls. It is a powerful force in bringing people together and building true community, capturing and preserving memories of time, places and people.