The next few weeks passed by in learning about the soil, air, water and general climatic conditions of their vineyard. Both had read up extensively about vineyards, how to manage one, wine production, bottling, etc. And since he always said ‘I can sell ice to an Eskimo’, marketing and selling would not be a big problem. Now they needed practical, hands on knowledge about their own vineyard. So, some locals who expertised in winemaking had come in to give some ground zero knowledge.
Days turned into months. Months into an entire year. They were making some excellent wine and were being able to cover their costs. Profit was not so near but neither of them was in a real hurry. Their biggest dream had come true or so they thought.
Initially everything had been fine. Discovering the local traditions, customs, nature and the names of different things available in the market had kept both busy. He spent time photographing everything from the tiny spider that crept into her bath one morning to a breathtaking aerial view of their own vineyard from a nearby hillock. She signed up for Monferrina classes, which kept her toes moving. Dance was an integral part of her being. And imagine her luck that Piedmont was the centre of activity for dance and music.
Despite everything seeming hunky dory at the surface, nothing was fine beneath. Both knew. He kept on complaining about how disorganized she was, she about him bordering on OCD. He relentlessly reminded her to be strong and stand up for herself while she called him stonehearted. She kept saying he was spineless because he didn’t want a child, he thought his love was enough for them. The list was long. They didn’t really fight. Most of the times it was sarcastic comments, jabs, even accusations. They simply didn’t understand each other anymore.
One not-so-fine morning after an argument about priorities, she ran up to him with a piece of paper in her hand. He was lying down on a patch of grass and gazing at the huge expanse of blue above almost hypnotically. Being the sarcastic bastard that he was, he pretended to not see her coming towards him. ‘Listen….there is a wine festival in Tuscany in 9 months’, she said with bated breath. He replied with the worst possible ‘So?’ in the world. ‘Lets participate…..please’, she said fully knowing that he’ll say no, but still having hope in her heart. He didn’t reply. He continued looking at the blue sky counting the butterflies that flew over him. She just stared at him with an exasperated expression. Then after what seemed like an age, almost magically he said, ‘Alright. Lets do it’. She smiled. They had finally agreed upon something.
********************to be continued*****************************