We are waiting.
The vine shows us new colors and on the shoots, the purple of the grapes, emerges beyond the lush green of the leaves. It is a story of seasonal metamorphosis, of landscapes changing their garments following the cyclical nature of time and marrying the work of man.
In this time of waiting, we are carefully and attentively following the slightest changes so as to choose the best time for the harvest.
We are between the rows and presiding over them.
