April in the Vineyard: Fieldwork, Canté j’euv, the vigils of andé vié, and chats under the topia. Discover the bond between tradition, language, and the vine!
April in the vineyard is the month when everything restarts: the days grow longer, the air turns milder, and after the winter rains and snow, the rows awaken, ready for a new season. In Piedmont, between the Langhe and Roero, this is also the time of Easter, Easter Monday, and the desire to reconnect—perhaps with a glass of wine in hand—watching the hills turn green once again.
Continuing our journey that began in January through the vineyard and Piedmontese dialect, for April we have chosen expressions that speak of community, conviviality, and shared tales: because here, the vineyard is never just about work; it is also about memory, language, and passed-down stories.
Canté j’euv: What is it and what does it mean?
The first Piedmontese expression of the month is Canté j’euv, literally “singing for eggs.” This is an ancient begging song tradition, typical of the countryside, which took place around Easter: groups of young people would go from house to house late at night, singing under windows in exchange for eggs and other gifts.
The collected eggs were used to prepare the famous Easter Monday “merendina” (snack), the great collective celebration marking the end of Lent, filled with frittatas, music, village games, and wine shared in the square. The egg, a symbol of rebirth and fertility, thus accompanied the rebirth of the vine in a perfect intertwining of vineyard work, hope for a good harvest, and the desire to be together.
Behind Canté j’euv, there was also a strong social aspect: the protagonists were the eligible young bachelors, who took advantage of these nights to see the local girls in a context where opportunities for meeting were rare and strictly regulated. The group always included il fratocin, a boy dressed as a friar with a basket on his arm, ready to collect eggs and other gifts from those who opened their doors with generosity.
Andé vié: The Piedmontese stable vigil, between tales and working hands
The second term we have chosen for April is andé vié, which in Piedmontese dialect means “to go to vigil.” This was a typical habit of the cold months: when the days were short and farm work stopped early, families would gather in the stables to spend the evening together.
Old farmhouse rooms were often cold and poorly insulated, while stables, warmed by the presence of the animals, became the natural gathering spot: warmer, larger, and more welcoming. Here, people talked, laughed, exchanged news, and passed down proverbs and words in dialect that we still carry in our hearts today.
During the andé vié, everyone stayed busy: they told stories of masche (witches), spirits, saints, and village characters; they spun wool, sewed, and repaired tools—hands were never still. Young people got to know each other, friendships were born, and sometimes even romances, in a perfect balance of work, social life, and that slow pace we long for today.
Under the topia: The “summer living room” of the Piedmontese vineyard
With the arrival of the warm season, that same desire to be together moved outdoors, under the topia. The topia is the pergola upon which a vine branch is trained to grow—often Strawberry grapes or Favorita, which were once considered table grapes rather than wine grapes.
In the summer, after a day of work in the fields or the vineyard, “staying under the topia” meant sitting in the cool shade, chatting, snacking, and filling wine glasses in a simple and authentic atmosphere. It wasn’t just a physical place, but a way of life: over time, the topia became a symbol of peasant hospitality, unhurried conviviality, and community.
Even today in Piedmont, the phrase stare sotto la topia is used to describe a moment of relaxation and company, perhaps with a bottle of Langhe DOC Arneis or Barbera open on the table. It is an image that perfectly captures how we view the vineyard: a place where we work hard, of course, but where there is always room to share stories and glasses of wine.
April among the rows at Agricola Marrone: New vineyard tasks and old words not to be forgotten
As nature awakens, fieldwork picks up pace in April: we check the buds, observe closely how the vines reacted to winter, and continue with the agronomic choices that will influence the entire vintage. Every decision—from the number of buds to leave to the management of individual shoots—is calibrated to ensure healthy plants and quality grapes, while respecting the natural balance of the vineyard.
This year, we continue to consult with our agronomist and research laboratory to intervene in a targeted, minimally invasive, and conscious way: our goal remains the same—“happy” vineyards that produce wines expressive of their territory. We move through the rows with caution, because every bud is a promise of the future, and every agronomic choice is a piece of the story you will find in your glass.
Through all this, Piedmontese dialect remains the soundtrack of our days: words like Canté j’euv, andé vié, and topia are invisible threads holding different generations together, from those who lived the countryside of the past to those who inhabit it today with a fresh perspective. It is a unique kind of nostalgia: not so much for an idealized past, but for that sense of community that we try to recreate, day after day, here in the cellar and among our vines.
The importance of quality time spent together: We look forward to seeing you at the winery!
Perhaps this is the common thread of April: the desire to be together, to share time, stories, and glasses. What once happened in the stables, under the topia, or during the nights of Canté j’euv, we try to keep alive today between the vineyard and our cellar, welcoming those who come to visit us in the Langhe hills.
Here, we strive to give people back their most precious asset: time. Time for a vineyard visit, for a guided tasting, for a lunch overlooking the rows, or for a chat in dialect or Italian over a glass of Barolo or Arneis. A slow, shared time that smells of wine, earth, and those ancient words that continue to tell the story of who we are.