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Every quarter of an hour or so, an ageing diesel train pulls into a graffiti-covered station. Nearby, a police siren cuts through the almost continuous road noise. Commuters hurry past falling apart, ivy-covered garden fences as storm clouds form.

It is maybe the last place you anticipate to find a well-established vineyard. But James Bayliss-Smith has managed to 40 mature vines sagging with round purplish berries on a sprawling allotment sandwiched between a line of historic homes and a commuter railway just north of Bristol town centre.

"I've seen individuals concealing illegal substances or whatever in those bushes," says Bayliss-Smith. "But you simply continue ... and continue caring for your vines."

Bayliss-Smith, 46, a filmmaker who also has a fermented beverage company, is not the only local vintner. He's organized a loose collective of growers who make vintage from several hidden city grape gardens nestled in private yards and allotments across Bristol. The project is too clandestine to possess an official name so far, but the collective's messaging chat is called Vineyard Dreams.

City Vineyards Around the Globe

To date, Bayliss-Smith's plot is the sole location listed in the City Vineyard Network's upcoming global directory, which features better-known urban wineries such as the 1,800 plants on the slopes of the French capital's historic artistic district area and over 3,000 vines with views of and inside the Italian city. The Italian-based charitable organization is at the vanguard of a initiative reviving urban grape cultivation in traditional winemaking nations, but has identified them all over the world, including cities in East Asia, Bangladesh and Central Asia.

"Grape gardens assist urban areas remain more eco-friendly and more diverse. These spaces protect land from construction by establishing permanent, productive farming plots within urban environments," explains the association's president.

Like all wines, those created in cities are a product of the earth the plants grow in, the unpredictability of the weather and the people who tend the grapes. "A bottle of wine represents the charm, local spirit, landscape and history of a city," adds the spokesperson.

Mystery Eastern European Variety

Returning to Bristol, the grower is in a urgent timeline to gather the vines he cultivated from a cutting left in his garden by a Eastern European household. If the rain arrives, then the birds may take advantage to attack once more. "Here we have the enigmatic Eastern European variety," he comments, as he cleans bruised and rotten berries from the glistering clusters. "We don't really know their exact classification, but they're definitely disease-resistant. In contrast to premium grapes – Pinot Noir, Chardonnay and additional renowned French grapes – you don't have to spray them with chemicals ... this is possibly a unique cultivar that was developed by the Soviets."

Collective Efforts Across the City

The other members of the group are also taking advantage of sunny interludes between bursts of fall precipitation. At a rooftop garden with views of Bristol's glistening harbour, where historic trading ships once bobbed with casks of vintage from France and the Iberian peninsula, Katy Grant is collecting her dark berries from about fifty vines. "I adore the aroma of the grapevines. The scent is so reminiscent," she remarks, stopping with a container of grapes slung over her arm. "It's the scent of southern France when you open the vehicle windows on vacation."

The humanitarian worker, fifty-two, who has devoted more than two decades working for charitable groups in conflict zones, unexpectedly inherited the grape garden when she moved back to the United Kingdom from Kenya with her household in 2018. She felt an strong responsibility to maintain the grapevines in the yard of their new home. "This plot has previously endured multiple proprietors," she explains. "I really like the idea of natural stewardship – of handing this down to someone else so they can keep cultivating from this land."

Sloping Gardens and Natural Winemaking

A short walk away, the final two members of the collective are busily laboring on the precipitous slopes of the local river valley. Jo Scofield has cultivated more than 150 vines perched on terraces in her expansive property, which descends towards the muddy River Avon. "Visitors frequently express amazement," she says, gesturing towards the interwoven vineyard. "It's astonishing to them they are viewing rows of vines in a city street."

Today, Scofield, sixty, is harvesting clusters of deep violet Rondo grapes from lines of vines arranged along the hillside with the help of her child, Luca. Scofield, a wildlife and conservation film-maker who has contributed to Netflix's Great National Parks series and television network's Gardeners' World, was motivated to plant grapes after seeing her neighbor's grapevines. She has learned that hobbyists can make intriguing, pleasurable natural wine, which can command prices of upwards of £7 a serving in the growing number of establishments focusing on low-processing vintages. "It's just incredibly satisfying that you can actually make quality, traditional vintage," she states. "It is quite fashionable, but really it's resurrecting an old way of producing vintage."

"During foot-stomping the grapes, all the natural microorganisms are released from the surfaces and enter the liquid," explains Scofield, ankle deep in a bucket of small branches, seeds and crimson juice. "That's how wines were historically produced, but industrial wineries add preservatives to kill the natural cultures and then add a commercially produced culture."

Challenging Environments and Creative Approaches

A few doors down active senior Bob Reeve, who motivated his neighbor to establish her grapevines, has gathered his friends to harvest Chardonnay grapes from the 100 plants he has laid out neatly across two terraces. The former teacher, a northern English physical education instructor who taught at the local university cultivated an interest in viticulture on regular visits to France. But it is a challenge to cultivate Chardonnay grapes in the dampness of the valley, with temperature fluctuations sweeping in and out from the nearby estuary. "I wanted to produce French-style vintages in this location, which is a bit bonkers," admits Reeve with amusement. "This variety is late to ripen and very sensitive to mildew."

"My goal was creating European-style vintages here, which is rather ambitious"

The temperamental Bristol climate is not the only problem faced by winegrowers. Reeve has been compelled to erect a barrier on