California’s 40,000-acre question: What happens when vineyards disappear?

DRIVE NORTH THROUGH HOPLAND this spring, past Ukiah into Redwood Valley. You’ll notice gaps. Where Cabernet and Zinfandel twisted toward the sun last October, now there’s bare dirt, stacked rootstock, maybe even a For Sale sign. Growers across California are pulling vines at a pace nobody alive has seen. Nowhere is the identity question sharper than in Mendocino County, where wine has been a way of life for four generations.

This isn’t a story about oversupply. That’s the symptom. This is about what happens to a place when the crop that defined it starts to disappear.