Valdecamellas
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The first issue of a quarterly notebook that will only appear when there is something worth saying slowly. It is devoted to the silence of winter and to what happens underground while we read: three essays, a conversation with Trifón and a photographic section from the weeks when the cellar closes and the vineyard keeps working in its place.
From November, the elms stand bare and the vineyard becomes a drawing of vertical lines over brown earth. That is when the real work of the following year begins. While the vine rests on the surface, its roots breathe slowly, the fungi in the subsoil exchange water with the plant, and the winery prepares the wood, the decisions, the forgetting.
Read the full storyTrifón
Vine-grower · more than eighty growing cycles
“Winter is not a rest. It is the only season in which the vine listens to the land without distraction, and our work, for once, is not to interrupt.”
We speak with the man who has pruned these vines through more than eighty growing cycles, the winegrower about the decision that matters most to him each year: when to stop watching the vineyard and begin to trust it.
“What happens in the vineyard between November and February that cannot be photographed?”
A. Q. —“Almost everything. The soil reorganizes, the roots make decisions without asking, and the old vines, above all, learn what we did not yet know how to ask of them. Working well in those months means not being there.”
Two weeks in Fresnillo de las Dueñas without a tripod, without a script and without asking anyone permission to enter. These are four of the thirty images selected for this issue.
We do not publish every week. We publish when we know something worth saying slowly. If you would like to follow along, leave us your address and we will let you know when the next one is released.
