Italiano
It is time. There is no immediate sign but your senses tell you that the time has come. A sweet nectar saturates the air so you can almost touch it: a promise of the pleasure to come. It is time for the grape harvest: the season of reconciliation between man and nature when enjoyment and effort go hand in hand as the grapes are trodden into wine. Campania felix it was once called: a land of lush nature and fertile fields which all share the same fragrance at this time. From the slopes ofMount Vesuvius to the Phlegraean Fields, from the Lattari mountains to the vineyards of Irpinia and Terra di Lavoro, and from the farms of Sannio to the Cilento coastline, it is time for the grape harvest. The country folk organise festivals and dances; they invite friends to come and help tread the grapes in an expression of joy and thanksgiving for the fertility of the land and the living it affords. [charme-gallery]It is time for fun as all clamber barefoot into the huge vats for the first pressing. They dance and do not notice their ebbing strength but the press is working and the heady liquid is gushing forth . Months will have to pass before the wine can be tasted, whether it is Falanghina, Per ’e Palummo, Greco di Tufo, Lacryma Christi, Aglianico, Coda di Volpe, Asprinio, Fiano, Taurasi, Eleusi or Falerno del Massico. Then it will be time to savour the warming sensation that only nectar of the vine can give after months of summer sun. As Galileo said, wine is “just sunlight mixed with grape juice”[charme-gallery]
