Valdecamellas
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Between the first green tip in April and the middle of May, a single cold night can undo what took all winter to build. This issue follows the weeks that decide a vintage before it exists: the frost itself, the forty metres that ripen at different speeds, the ten days in June that fix how much fruit there will be, and the old argument over whether the soil should be turned at all.
Between the first green tip in April and the middle of May there is a window in which a single clear night undoes ten months of work. The vine spends the whole winter making itself invulnerable and then opens, and what comes out cannot survive two hours at two degrees below zero. This is what is actually done about it, which is less than anyone would like.
Read the full storyTrifón
Vine-grower · Vol. I, No. 03
“There are eleven weeks in which nobody comes. They are the ones that decide the wine, and they are the only ones we have never charged for.”
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.
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