Karen Francis DeGolia’s story at Limerick Lane isn’t just a winery origin tale; it’s the kind of full‑circle, heart‑on‑its-sleeve wine destiny that feels like it was plotted after a few good glasses of old‑vine Zin. This is a place where the fog line, a 1910 field blend, a murder, a move, and a comeback all collide on 53 acres at the far northeast edge of the Russian River Valley.
Where the lane began:
Long before tasting rooms and wine clubs, this stretch of road was christened Limerick Lane by a homesick cattleman who named it after his Irish hometown and Italian farmers chasing a new life later planted vines in the area. In 1910, the Del Fava family put Zinfandel and mixed varietals in the ground, creating the “1910 Block” that still pumps out fruit today and gives the estate its beating heart. By 1985, the Collins family had turned the property into Limerick Lane Cellars, a winery built to showcase the fruit.
The love story and the loss:
Karen first arrived on this property in the early 1990s, not as a visitor but as a co‑conspirator in building a life here, engaged to founder and winemaker Tom Collins. They spent long days coaxing those 1910 vines back to life, finishing the winery, and even completing that wonderfully eccentric bottle‑shaped pool, the kind of detail you only dream up when you’re young and all‑in on a place. Then, in 1993, tragedy cut right through the fairytale: Tom died unexpectedly, and the ranch that had been their shared future became a place Karen could no longer call home.
Detours, boardrooms, and staying tethered:
Most people, after that kind of heartbreak, would close the book. Karen turned the page and wrote an entirely new chapter in corporate America instead, armed with her Dartmouth and Harvard degrees and a talent for strategy, brand, and getting hard things done in industries that didn’t always look like her. She rose through the automotive and marketing worlds, leading teams, building brands, and sharpening the business muscles that now show up everywhere at Limerick Lane—from how the wines are positioned to how the guest experience feels when you step onto the property. Later, she took the helm of an advertising agency in San Francisco, sharpening the skills that now show up everywhere at Limerick Lane Wines: Brand discipline, storytelling, and a laser focus on the customer experience. She also stayed connected to food and wine as a grower and as a board member at Copia, deepening her understanding of how agriculture, culture, and hospitality intersect.
But even while she was making big‑company decisions, she kept a fingertip on the vineyard life, eventually buying a neighboring old‑vine site more than twenty years ago, quietly keeping a home base in wine while the rest of her world spun at full corporate speed.
The pull of the vines:
The lane didn’t let her go for long. In the early 2000s, Karen moved back to the ranch for a time, living at the winery, working harvest, pouring in the tasting room, and hustling bottles in the market just to see if the fit still felt right. The old vines, the shifting fog, that “hot, cold, hot” rhythm of the far northeast corner of Russian River — all of it tugged at her in a way no boardroom ever could. When life pulled her back away again, she left with a key piece still in her pocket: Ownership of that neighboring vineyard, a planted promise that this story wasn’t finished.
The pandemic phone call:
Fast‑forward to the Jake Bilbro era, when Limerick Lane had already reasserted itself as one of Sonoma’s historic Zinfandel addresses. During the pandemic, Jake decided it was time to sell the estate, and word traveled fast. Karen heard the ranch that shaped her 20s was changing hands but the vineyard was under commitment to another vineyard.
A few weeks later, she heard the sale was in peril. This time, she had days, not months, to decide if she was all‑in again. She jumped — drawing on that same decisive instinct that once closed major automotive deals — and in 2022 she became owner and steward of the 53‑acre estate, knitting her life and this ranch back together after almost three decades apart.
What 53 acres look like today:
Today Limerick Lane is an estate that feels both intimate and quietly powerful, a patchwork of old‑vine Zinfandel, mixed‑black field blends, and Rhône varieties laid out where the Russian River Valley pinches up against warmer hillsides. Those 1910 vines are still a centerpiece, joined by blocks that turn out Zinfandel and Zinfandel‑based blends alongside a focused set of Rhône bottlings that give you a different lens on this corner of Sonoma. The tastings happen right out amidst that history, often near the original plantings, where you can literally look down the rows that birthed what’s in your glass.
Chris, Pinot sensibility, and Zin:
In the cellar, winemaker Chris Pittenger is the kind of hire that tells you exactly where Karen wants this story to go. His résumé reads like a Pinot and Rhône love letter— time at Williams‑Selyem and four harvests at Marcassin, then more than a decade crafting Grenache and Mourvèdre at Skinner, plus he and his wife, Sarah, own the Pinot‑centric Gros Ventre project. That background shows up in the glass; he treats Zinfandel less like a battering ram and more like a cool‑climate Pinot with bolder fruit, focusing on lift, texture, and site rather than sheer alcohol and swagger.
Leadership with a lot of soul:
Karen’s job description now reads something like “legacy guardian meets growth engine.” She is leaning hard into what this ranch does best—old vines, field blends, and Zinfandel that actually tastes like the very specific place where the fog pauses — while also doing the unsexy, ultra‑necessary work of growing restaurant placements, nurturing a serious wine club, and crafting on‑property experiences that feel more like staying with friends on a historic vineyard than checking into a resort. Under her watch, Limerick Lane is carving out this rare space in a crowded market: a historic estate that feels modern, a comeback story that never forgets the loss that came first, and a winery where every bottle carries just a little bit of that “Failte” — a Celtic welcome on one of the whites — to anyone willing to walk down the lane and listen.
