Agribella

Imagine having just woken up in a farmhouse in the hills of the Langhe descending from Treiso to Alba, surrounded in every direction, as if in an amphitheatre, by an enchanting panorama of vineyard-covered slopes stretching from hill to hill in a seemingly never-ending sweep. The embers in the fireplace are still glowing faintly from the night before. You look out through the misted over window-pane, holding a steaming cup in your hand; the early morning fog slowly rolls upward, pierced by the pale rays of the sun. You think you can hear voices in the distance, perhaps someone already out in the vineyards... or maybe in the cellar. What's that sound...? Two courting crows. You hurry outside chased by the catss, and stop in the middle of the courtyard, breathing in the sharp air. The vineyards stands out against the sun, and the day promised something new: landscapes to be discovered and symphonies overheard; the wine to be revealed in its many various facets; and then the human warmth, the tradition, the magic of the Langhe.