Michele Satta and his son inspect the vines a few days before pruning.
I think this has been the longest break I have taken from writing this blog since I started it a few years ago. I’ve been busy with my new job, I’ve been working with all kinds of fun winemakers and colleagues, and I’ve generally just been trying to keep up with the huge learning curve that come with changing jobs and companies.
I’m also getting ready to go back to Italy tomorrow…
There is a kind of bubbling excitement I feel when reality sets in and I realize that in a day or so, I will arrive back in Italia. Just knowing I will board the plane tomorrow in JFK, and at least half the people on it will be speaking a language I love. Italian, with all of its dips and pitches, musical intonations and dramatic pauses. There is a sweet rhythm to this language that recalls the poetic nature of its people.
Italian People, who do crazy-wonderful things like devoting themselves to farming some obscure native grape, just so they can continue to make an esoteric, indigenous wine.