LETTERS IN PERCUSSINA

A spring letter from La Pia Awakening in Percussina One moment the sun warms your face. The next, a cool wind moves across the hills and you pull your coat closed at the neck. March, as the Tuscans say, is a little pazzerello. Walking between the vines, you see the hills turning a deeper green. The soil softens under your feet, and each step carries the quiet squish of wet grass. Marzo, a La Pia. After the winter pruning, the vines stand in formation. Aligned and waiting. Loo

A winter letter from La Pia February arrives quietly, carrying neither the drama of winter nor the promise of spring. It settles around us. This is the month of work that is not photogenic. Vines are pruned back - cut and shaped. The 2026 vintage begins. Wheat rests beneath the soil - soaking February rains and waiting the Tuscan sun. Olive trees stand guard - green and patiently waiting. Outdoors, each day decides what it will be, changing its mind at a moment's notice. Indo

Each morning we step outside a little earlier now, and the clock tells us we’re back inside a little later in the evening. Fog settles low across the fields, topped with an off-white frost in the early morning, both loosening only when the sun offers just enough warmth. The olive trees stand still, and the vines hold the shape of last year’s growth, sitting bare, ready for pruning — la potatura . While the days are still short, at least they are no longer shrinking. From the