Yeast added. Lid shut. Airlock, well, locked. I wait. Austen’s Anne Elliot knows how I feel: suffering quietly alone, waiting upon your sugars to become alcohol takes the patience of a truly goodwilled and kind nature. Yeasts, like most gentlemen, are at best conversely inattentive and then later overambitious in character. They must be treated with the ever lightest of attentions, even if one’s bloom has vanished early with a rapid increase of the crow’s foot about the eye, one might still indulge in the hope of exciting their esteem, thus someday garnering a place amidst their large fortune and…DAY 2: I wake and find the temperature up two degrees. Cracking the lid unveils a foam of Carbon Dioxide from the yeast on the surface. The hydrometer shows the sugars are down 0.004. So I begin the daily stir, giving the yeasts air to breathe. The foam separates and swirls like Jupiter’s surface.

Two more days find the yeast cruising through the grape sugars, with the hydrometer bobbing its approval at 1.032 Brix. The apartment smells brilliantly.

The wife takes a turn letting the yeasts breathe.

Once lidded, the airlock pops and bubbles the CO2 safely out of the tank, not letting anything else in. Too much oxygen contact and the wine turns to vinegar or worse breeds invading bacteria.Day 4: A churning thick cap of burping yeasts has formed and Mr. Hydrometer tells me the end is near: 1.020 S.G. I give the wine a heavy last stir and take time to upload more photos.

The fifth day wakes me to a quiet airlock. A layer of lazy froth gets stirred away and the hydrometer dips to 0.999. Secondary Fermentation show time!