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Every quarter of an hour or so, an older diesel-powered train arrives at a spray-painted stop. Close by, a law enforcement alarm pierces the near-constant traffic drone. Daily travelers rush by falling apart, ivy-covered garden fences as storm clouds form.

This is maybe the last place you expect to find a perfectly formed vineyard. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to four dozen established plants heavy with round mauve grapes on a rambling allotment sandwiched between a line of historic homes and a local rail line just north of Bristol town centre.

"I've seen people concealing illegal substances or other items in those bushes," says the grower. "But you just get on with it ... and continue caring for your grapevines."

Bayliss-Smith, forty-six, a documentary cameraman who also has a fermented beverage company, is among several local vintner. He has pulled together a loose collective of growers who make wine from four discreet city grape gardens tucked away in private yards and allotments throughout the city. The project is too clandestine to possess an official name so far, but the collective's WhatsApp group is called Vineyard Dreams.

City Wine Gardens Around the World

So far, Bayliss-Smith's allotment is the only one registered in the City Vineyard Network's forthcoming world atlas, which features more famous urban wineries such as the eighteen hundred vines on the hillsides of the French capital's renowned Montmartre area and over 3,000 grapevines overlooking and inside Turin. Based in Italy non-profit association is at the vanguard of a movement reviving urban grape cultivation in historic wine-producing nations, but has discovered them all over the world, including urban centers in Japan, Bangladesh and Uzbekistan.

"Grape gardens help cities remain greener and more diverse. They preserve open space from development by establishing long-term, yielding agricultural units within cities," says the association's president.

Like all wines, those produced in cities are a product of the soils the vines grow in, the vagaries of the climate and the individuals who care for the fruit. "Each vintage represents the beauty, local spirit, landscape and heritage of a city," notes the spokesperson.

Unknown Eastern European Grapes

Returning to the city, Bayliss-Smith is in a race against time to harvest the grapevines he grew from a plant left in his garden by a Polish family. Should the precipitation arrives, then the birds may seize their chance to attack once more. "Here we have the mystery Polish grape," he comments, as he removes damaged and rotten berries from the glistering bunches. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they are certainly disease-resistant. In contrast to noble varieties – Burgundy grapes, white wine grapes and other famous French grapes – you don't have to treat them with pesticides ... this could be a unique cultivar that was bred by the Soviets."

Group Efforts Throughout the City

The other members of the group are additionally taking advantage of bright periods between bursts of fall precipitation. On the terrace overlooking Bristol's shimmering harbour, where historic trading ships once bobbed with barrels of vintage from Europe and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is harvesting her dark berries from approximately 50 plants. "I love the smell of the grapevines. The scent is so reminiscent," she says, pausing with a basket of fruit resting on her shoulder. "It's the scent of Provence when you open the vehicle windows on holiday."

Grant, 52, who has devoted more than 20 years working for humanitarian organizations in conflict zones, inadvertently inherited the grape garden when she moved back to the UK from Kenya with her household in 2018. She experienced an overwhelming duty to maintain the vines in the yard of their recently acquired property. "This plot has previously endured three different owners," she explains. "I deeply appreciate the idea of natural stewardship – of handing this down to future caretakers so they can continue producing from this land."

Sloping Vineyards and Natural Winemaking

A short walk away, the final two members of the collective are hard at work on the steep inclines of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has established over 150 vines perched on terraces in her wild half-acre garden, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "People are always surprised," she notes, indicating the tangled grape garden. "They can't believe they are viewing rows of vines in a city street."

Currently, the filmmaker, 60, is harvesting clusters of dusty purple Rondo grapes from rows of plants slung across the cliff-side with the help of her daughter, her family member. The conservationist, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has worked on Netflix's Great National Parks series and BBC Two's gardening shows, was motivated to cultivate vines after observing her neighbor's vines. She's discovered that amateurs can produce intriguing, enjoyable traditional vintage, which can sell for upwards of seven pounds a serving in the growing number of establishments specialising in minimal-intervention vintages. "It is incredibly satisfying that you can truly create quality, natural wine," she says. "It is quite fashionable, but in reality it's resurrecting an traditional method of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, the various wild yeasts come off the surfaces into the juice," says the winemaker, ankle deep in a bucket of tiny stems, pips and red liquid. "This represents how wines were made traditionally, but commercial producers add preservatives to eliminate the natural cultures and subsequently add a commercially produced culture."

Difficult Environments and Creative Solutions

In the immediate vicinity active senior Bob Reeve, who inspired Scofield to establish her vines, has assembled his friends to pick white wine varieties from one hundred plants he has arranged precisely across multiple levels. Reeve, a northern English physical education instructor who worked at Bristol University cultivated an interest in wine on regular visits to Europe. However it is a challenge to grow Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the valley, with temperature fluctuations moving through from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to make French-style vintages here, which is somewhat ambitious," admits the retiree with a smile. "This variety is slow-maturing and very sensitive to fungal infections."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages in this environment, which is rather ambitious"

The unpredictable Bristol climate is not the sole problem faced by grape cultivators. The gardener has been compelled to install a fence on