Sunday E-dition: Really, what time is it?

By Dave Stoneberg

NAPA VALLEY, Calif. — Good morning! I’m writing this on Tuesday and I’ve finally gotten used to being on standard time rather than daylight saving time. In our household, we change the clocks on Sunday morning rather than Saturday night, in part because it’s easier. Let me tell you why.

Last weekend it was time to “fall back” to standard time, instead of daylight saving time - Dave Stoneberg Photo

In the bedroom, we have two digital alarm clocks and that’s just the start of the number of time pieces in our house. My wife Joni has two non-digital wristwatches. That makes four. In Joni’s bathroom, next to the container holding the wristwatches, is a small travel alarm clock that Joni gave to her mother, Ollie, for traveling. When Ollie was done with traveling, she gave it back to Joni. That’s five.

In the kitchen, the only clock that automatically changes from daylight time to standard time is the atomic clock. This clock is the standard, which means all others should agree with it. So, in the kitchen, there’s the clock on the microwave, one on the oven and one on the separate toaster oven. Also, there’s a clock on the coffeemaker. That makes 10, if you’re keeping count, which I am.

Adjacent to the small kitchen is our dining area with its antique round mahogany table and four captain’s chairs. On the wall next to it is a beautiful square antique pendulum clock. On the glass front are the words “Standard Time,” which makes no darn sense, at least to me. Written on the white circular dial is the name of the maker: The New Haven Clock Co., from New Haven, Connecticut. In small letters at the bottom of the dial are the words “Made in U.S.A.” The numbers are black and the wooden case is 14.5 inches wide and 32 inches tall. The clock keeps pretty good time – there’s a screw on the bottom of the pendulum that you can twist to adjust the time – and when it’s quiet in the house, the tick-tock is pretty loud, but also comforting. I wind the spring with a key about once a week and if I forget, the clock slows down, it loses time, and eventually stops. The pendulum clock, which I bought nearly 50 years ago, makes it 11, and I’m not nearly done.

In the living room there are two antique clocks, one being a banjo clock that was repaired badly, as it turns out, because I can’t get the movement going anymore. It always reads 12:15, so it’s right twice a day. I didn’t have to change the time on that clock. The other antique clock is a small round one, from Joni’s side of the family, that was originally in a car. On the face it says it is a Chelsea 8-day clock and it was made by George E. Butler of San Francisco. The round works are encased in redwood that is 7 inches tall and 5.5 inches wide at the base. The case is reminiscent of church architecture, its two sides form a point at the top. That’s an even dozen.

Thirteen is my Citizen wristwatch that is powered by light. I don’t often wear it anymore, so it sits on my desk. It still keeps good time and is enclosed in a beautiful titanium case and band with a black dial. I bought it years ago when I worked an afternoon and night shift at a five-day-a-week newspaper in Lakeport. I was in charge of laying out the pages each afternoon and evening and I had three deadlines a night, with the latest one being for the front and jump pages at 11:15 p.m. The sports pages had a midnight deadline, but I wasn’t responsible for those two pages. I got to go home after checking the first copies as they came off the press, which was usually between 12:30 and 1:30 a.m. For all 10 years I worked for that newspaper, I never liked the hours because I never got enough sleep.

I had to change the two digital timers (14 and 15) for our water system, one is in the crawl space under the house, where most of the water valves are located. The second is in the garage, where there were a surprising number of time pieces. I moved the hands back one hour on the clock in my VW bus. That makes 16. While I’m in the garage, there’s a clock for the garage door opener. Seventeen. I’ll leave it at 17, because both our iPhones, the clock in Joni’s car and the digital Garmin on my bike were all smart enough to know what time it was and is.

A few years ago, just after we purchased our mini-spit heaters/air conditioners system, I set the time on the three remote controls (one in the main part of the house, the other two in the bedrooms.) But since setting the time initially, I haven’t changed those digital clocks. Looking at the one in the spare bedroom/office, it says 2:40 p.m., which ain’t bad, because today it’s really 1:45 p.m. If I had enough time in my day, I’d set those digital timers to turn on the heat or the air conditioning at a certain time of day and then turn it off again, but I don’t.

In our dining room is a large pendulum clock that keeps pretty good time. If we forget to wind it, it will lose time — we’ll be late for an appointment — and eventually stop. It has been a part of my life for some 50 years - Dave Stoneberg Photo

When I was growing up, my parents’ houses contained a big, beautiful grandfather clock with its wonderful Westminster chimes, a different tune every 15 minutes, and the loud chimes that mark the hour. The clock was bought by my grandfather’s father at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893. Its mahogany case was 7 feet tall and the brass works were intricate. Three large brass weights were suspended on cables. As days went by, the weights slowly lowered to the ground. There were three keyholes in the face to wind the weights to the top again.

At night, if you woke up and wanted to know what time it was, it wouldn’t take long to listen to the quarter-hour melodies to figure out if it was 15 past the hour, half past the hour or a quarter to the hour. By then, you’d been awake for 45 minutes and you might as well wait another 15 minutes to figure out what hour it happened to be. (Or you could just look at the digital clock next to the bed … but that’s not the point.)

After living in my parents’ homes in Naperville, Illinois, the grandfather clock came west with a load of my parents’ and grandparents’ furniture. The clock went to my uncle, Thomas Brown, who lived in Marin County. Visiting his house there and later in Sonoma, I always loved seeing the clock. My uncle passed away in early 2020 and the grandfather clock went to his son, Peter, who lives in Norway. I hope Peter and his children learn to love that beautiful grandfather clock as much as I have. What a treasure is that clock.

Looking back on this past week in Napa Valley Features, on Saturday, Nov. 4, Loni Lyttle, director of viticulture at Advanced Viticulture Consulting and the company’s founder, Mark Greenspan, wrote a comprehensive technical analysis of Napa Valley’s 2023 wine grape growing season. If you haven’t read this story, you should. It is fascinating. Also this past week, the life of Michael Anthony Chelini was remembered as he passed away on Oct. 31. His 45-year career at Stony Hill Vineyard began in 1972, where he was first the vineyard manager, then winemaker. His life will be celebrated at 1 p.m., Saturday, Nov. 25 at Madrona Ranch, St. Helena.

Still talking about wine, photojournalist Tim Carl continues his fascinating series about the Napa Valley wine industry, examining how many wineries there are in the valley and how much wine is produced here.

Also, Mariam Hansen detailed the fascinating life of James Dowdell, who grew both hops and winegrapes during his life and became an outstanding citizen of St. Helena. Hansen is the research director of the St. Helena Historical Society.

I’m going to make my pitch: Please subscribe to Napa Valley Features and pay for it ($5 a month and $50 a year) if you can. Napa Valley Features is much like public television: Your subscription supports the writers, copy editors, photographers and others who produce this content in an ad-free environment. As of Thursday afternoon, we have nearly 2,300 subscribers yet only a paltry 27% pay to read this content. Since we began this effort in early May, we’ve published 230 stories and three-quarters of our readers are in California, although we have readers in 45 states and 25 countries. Please join us if you can, we appreciate your continued support.

Dave Stoneberg is an editor and journalist, who has worked for newspapers in both Lake and Napa counties.