On this clear dawn of August 30, 2025, the Gamay vines, gilded by summer, yielded their secret in a flash. Far from the ancestral labors that stretched out the days, the harvest was an express ballet, barely half a day, where the ten pickers, friends and family, danced to the rhythm of their secateurs. In the crisp morning air, laughter and light songs rang out, enveloping the vines in a contagious joy.
While the generosity of quantity was discreet, nature, for its part, had sculpted grapes of rare beauty, each cluster a jewel promising an exceptional vintage. At 13 degrees of alcohol, the future wine already whispered its ardent character, its promise of outstanding quality. It was a harvest in the image of modern times, swift and efficient, yet one that, in the warmth of hearts and the light of that brief morning, managed to retain the timeless magic of the earth. A fleeting yet brilliant memory, where the expert and joyful hand of man knew how to pluck the very soul of the year.