At this early hour, the vineyard was peaceful, the kind of tranquility that seemed earned rather than bestowed.
Rebuilding what the fire had destroyed in one night took eighteen months. Everything above ground in the new farmhouse was different from the old one—stronger, more aesthetically pleasing, fashioned by hands that had learnt the difference between building and healing. The foundations were same, though. Every beam was hand-picked for its strength and beauty, using stone quarried from the exact mountains that had provided sanctuary to the local craftsmen in their darkest hours.
The most difficult part were the vines. The ancient rootstock that had withstood the test of time in the face of weather and battle had perished in the fires, destroying the knowledge that had been passe
