We’ve reached the tail end of the year – a time that naturally invites us to look back, take stock, and clear space for what lies ahead. Every ending is also a beginning, and nature’s rhythms are a constant reminder of that. The cycle continues, and we try to make sense of things, gather our thoughts, and understand where we’re going, before even deciding how to get there.
2025 has been a full and fast-paced year. We’ve traveled far and wide – cities, tastings, trade shows. New York, Chicago, Paris, London, Verona… so many places where we’ve had the chance to meet journalists, industry professionals, and wine lovers, sharing what we do.
Among the many pieces of press coverage and international recognition we’ve received (and already spoken about), one mention stands out to me personally – Poggio Antico was named one of the top 100 “vignaioli” in Italy by Corriere della Sera. That description felt especially meaningful because it speaks directly to who we are. We’re “vignaioli” – which means, first and foremost, people who care for the vineyard. Everything begins there.
Looking back, the picture is full and complex – as it always is. There’s no denying that the broader market has felt unstable, which can make it hard to stay consistently focused on long-term goals. But anyone who works in agriculture knows this rhythm well: there are lean years and generous ones, and that cycle is part of the path. Lean years come for all sorts of reasons – hail, frost, excessive heat, natural shifts, economic contractions. These moments force you to pause, reassess, and reconsider your direction.
But that’s where their value lies. They bring you back to earth – back to our agricultural roots – and push you to make choices with more awareness, with a mindset that looks at the whole picture, not just one part.
That’s what we’ve chosen to do: to look forward and build with as much depth as possible. And that’s where Madre comes in.
The project we’re developing with Madre is, before anything else, a very real agricultural endeavor. It’s a vineyard planted in 2025 that will be fully completed by 2027, conceived from the start as something to be shaped by time, and built for it. The young vines we’re planting now may begin to yield fruit suitable for Brunello di Montalcino in five or six years. The first bottles from Madre likely won’t reach the market for another ten or eleven.
We designed Madre as a space for observation. The vineyard is divided into four distinct blocks, each using a different training system. These aren’t new or experimental methods in the absolute sense – they’re systems that have already proven effective in other parts of the world, but here, we’re putting them side by side in Montalcino, next to a block planted in a traditional setup. The idea is to see, over time, how each approach responds to a changing climate.
All the structures were designed to remain dynamic. When you plan the life of a vine over thirty years or more, the infrastructure needs to adapt alongside its natural development – not hold it back.
Behind all this is a lot of genuine curiosity. A desire to see what happens if we try one path instead of another. To explore how a model that works elsewhere might evolve here, at Poggio Antico. After all, the vine has been around for thousands of years. It’s survived ice ages, floods, sweeping climate shifts. It’s migrated, adapted, found new balance. Its strength lies in resilience and transformation – even if those transformations rarely follow the pace of modern life.
This isn’t just any long-term project. It’s a vision for the very, very long term – one meant to outlast us. We’re thinking of a vineyard that should live for at least forty years, and given my age, it naturally takes on the shape of a legacy. It’s a choice that goes beyond the present moment – beyond even the time of those who are building it now.
In that sense, Madre is an investment in ideas, not just vines. It’s our attempt to imagine a better way to be winegrowers – for the future of this land. Not every result will be visible right away, and that’s part of the point.
And maybe – for those who notice these things – it also feels like a sign of sorts. A vineyard called Madre, born to give life to the future, to nurture it as best we can, knowing we won’t see the whole journey. Isn’t that, in a way, the most maternal act there is?
Writing about Madre moves me deeply. It’s a project I care about profoundly, and I hope these words can convey – even just in part – the weight of the choices behind it, and the sense of purpose that brought it to life.
To those who have followed us this far, in these pages and beyond: thank you.
Wishing you a joyful holiday season, and a new year to live with care and curiosity. We'll be back soon, with another vineyard to tell you about - and another season to walk through.
See you soon,
Pippo