Grenache, cinsaut, syrah, vermentino, and mourvèdre...They’re scattered throughout our rocky limestone countryside. Certain vines majestically spread their slender and elegant branches with great pomp, while others sprout out crazily in all directions, their mischievous tendrils of twisted branch and leaf driving us crazy, putting us to the test, as if they’re determined to remind us that we have to earn each and every grape, the true fruit of this passionate work. And then at times, almost by magic, they docily acquiesce and follow our guidance, shimmering in the bright sun as they reach out their green shoots. They are the children of the Earth.
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