After the silence of winter and the months when seemingly nothing happens, the vine awakens. First comes the vine’s weeping. Then budbreak. And now, almost without warning, tiny green clusters begin to appear—clusters that will one day become grapes, wine, and memories. It is a process that happens every year, yet it never fails to inspire.

Because, deep down, it still feels like a miracle. A seemingly dormant plant coming back to life. A landscape transformed in just a few weeks. Something so small giving rise to the character of an entire wine. We are now entering a decisive stage, as the vineyard gradually begins to define how much it will yield and how it will express itself. In the meantime, our role is simply to accompany the process, intervening only when necessary so that nature can reveal its finest version.

There is something profoundly moving about working with cycles that repeat themselves and yet are never the same. No spring is identical to the last. No vintage behaves exactly like another. That is why each growing season still feels like a first time. Perhaps that is where the greatness of wine truly lies: in understanding that everything begins long before the bottle.