On the steep slopes of the Wehlener Sonnenuhr, the late-ripened sun reflecting from the slate waters of the Mosel warmed the azure-tinged stones under the vines. A loaded barge progressed slowly under the outlines of the bridge. The afternoon, immobilised, dangled precariously over the precipice, lingering with nostalgia over the mellow sweetness of the last golden drops of summer.
The story of wine goes back millennia, to the roots of civilisation. It is not just any agricultural product: from time immemorial it has been associated with ritual, sacrifice and prayer. The ancient Greeks considered ...
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