Vaughn Dell’s heart stopped on a northern Tasmanian vineyard in May 2020. We all knew isolation then, or thought we did. Feelings felt remote, but tears were never far away, and stasis was the status quo. The layers of weirdness might have muffled the seismic shock for Vaughn’s wife, Linda Morice; certainly, what happened next was a blur.

For 15 years, they had been growing a future here, everything constantly beginning or becoming—the vines, the wines, their daughters; Vaughn's curious, can-do singlemindedness the perfect foil for Linda's pragmatic support and quiet resolve. With Vaughn suddenly gone, she kept on. Perhaps there wasn’t a choice. But maybe some things just become a part of you, especially when it’s your love that made them.