July and August are not months for rest, although the great silence of summer could be deceptive. The sun is high, the light is merciless, the long days follow one another with only apparent slowness.
Vineyards are a hypnotic place in summer. The chirping of the cicadas, the sour smell of the hot earth, the wind that passes through the rows like a long breath. At first glance, everything seems still. But those who really know understand that at this moment the vineyard is teeming with life, with expectation, with hope.
If there is one dialectic we have never liked, it is the one that wants to tell us that among the captivating panoramas of the vineyards, time flows placidly and stillness reigns. We know how much the silence of these hills surrounded by greenery is sprinkled with sighs, hard work, sweat, smiles and dedication.
Of course, with his “la donzelletta vien dalla campagna” (i.e. ‘the young woman comes from the countryside’) Leopardi put his own spin on country life, as well as schools did, in making us learn these verses by heart, yet the reality is a little different.
Among these hills, among these vineyards, every day can make the difference between a good harvest and a lost vintage, even in the middle of summer, when everyone is on holiday. Because the vines do not go to the beach and it is always the unpredictability of natural events that dominates.
And this is why summer is a time that cannot be told: it lacks the spectacularity of the grape harvest, the surprise of budding. But it is the time of waking up before dawn, of watchful waiting, of silent care, of responsibility and patience.
The silence of the ripening vine
The plants, having unleashed all their energy in spring, now slow down. It is the moment of veraison: the Barbera bunches shift from green to deep purple.
It is a clear signal: the grapes begin to concentrate, to accumulate sugars, to prepare for the harvest. But nothing is left to chance as our winegrowers keep observing.
In the morning, they arrive at the vineyard praying that no animals have come into the vineyard to party, they check the leaves, the bunches of grapes, they measure the temperature difference between day and night. Soil moisture is assessed, and a decision is made as to whether to intervene with leaf removal to aerate the bunches. Work is done to maintain the balance between vegetation and fruit.
At the same time, the bunches are protected from birds and hail, and the presence of pests and fungal diseases is monitored, which, although less aggressive than in spring, can still compromise part of the harvest. Everyone knows we cannot let our guard down because the grape harvest is near.
I viticoltori non fanno rumore, ma sono sempre presenti perché il grande nemico, in questi mesi, è il caldo. Le piante soffrono se non ricevono la giusta quantità d’acqua, ma anche un’irrigazione sbagliata, eccessiva, può compromettere tutto. Soffrono, ma tutto sommato forse meno dei viticoltori!
Winegrowers make no noise, yet they are always there because these months’ big enemy is the heat. The plants suffer if they do not receive the right amount of water, while even incorrect, excessive irrigation can jeopardise everything. They suffer, yet on the whole perhaps less than the vine growers themselves!
A day in the vineyard with Carmela, winegrower from Vinchio Vaglio
I feel immensely grateful because every day I see the sunrise, which not everyone is lucky enough to see, and every day I see the sunset. In the morning, I bathe my feet in the night dew that covers the rows, it is cool and the best time to work in this season. We pick up the last shoots that have fallen, uncover the grapes well and spread the bunches so they can soak up the sun well without being clumped together or covered by leaves. As early as mid-morning, the heat becomes too oppressive and forces a break for the middle hours, before returning to the vineyard around mid-afternoon. The greatest satisfaction is seeing all these bunches now formed, ready to be picked during the harvest, always hoping that everything goes well.
