I have always thought wine represents a “sign of the times”, our time, which is spent silently and without pause. Nowadays, this adage is all the more true and I better understand when, as a child, my parents would speak of a bottle, of a vintage that was significantly different from another, and that some were missing because that year, the weather did not allow the production of wine. The conversation, accompanied by that specific bottle, helped guide our thought process about the changing climate, the events that occurred, the births and the deaths. It spoke of the vicissitude of people of all sorts and characters, of strong and unforgettable memories. The conversation was governed by the elders but, with good grace, the women managed to add their piece into the discussion with surprisingly lucid and concrete assessments (the accident happened that year, Piero was in hospital for a long time, it hailed early in the spring, Luigi had the mumps … rather than the measles…). In this way, we discussed the weather, the seasons, the passage of time; and the vintage was witnessed by the bottle that was ‘labelled’ with a chalk inscription, which lasted better in the cellar, where the crutin* was often damp in summer.
But let’s discuss what happened in 2017, in that wonderful Tuscan corner beloved by the Etruscans and witness of endless generations that have left traces in the dwellings as well as in the surrounding cultivated area. One fact sums up everything: between October 2016 and October 2017, less than 200mm of water fell… a figure you’d expect in the desert. Continue reading…