Come with us to the vineyard to discover the month of August: veraison, work, and ancient traditions, between San Lorenzo and the legends of the masche.
In the Langhe, August is the month of silence that prepares the wine. The days seem endless, the sun reigns supreme, and time flows suspended, between waiting, intuitions, and ancient peasant gestures. It is a delicate, almost sacred moment, when nature holds its breath before the explosion of the harvest. Among the rows, the earth works in silence: under the daytime heat and the coolness of the night, the grapes slowly begin to change color. This is the time of veraison.
August is the time of veraison: between rubies, gold, and patience
In August, the grapes begin to change color: it is the moment of veraison. The Nebbiolo takes on ruby hues, the Barbera intensifies, the Arneis and the Favorita reflect the sun like golden pearls. The farmers gently begin to thin the vegetation, letting light filter through the leaves, to promote the ripening of the grapes. These are slow gestures, passed down through generations, which today – more and more often – are entrusted to the expert hands of the daughters (as happens here, with us, at Agricola Marrone), as a testament to a feminine agricultural tradition that grows and endures.
But in August, intervention is never too forceful: one observes and listens. Every rain, every wind, every cool night can change the fate of the harvest. It is a time of vigilance and choices: one waits and dreams of the wine that will come.
The sky of San Lorenzo, the Ferragosto rites, and the magic of the masche
In peasant culture, August is a month full of symbols and traditions, where nature intertwines with spirituality and popular beliefs.
On August 10th, the night of San Lorenzo, it is known for the shooting stars (the famous “fires of San Lorenzo”), but for those who cultivate the land, this was the date to invoke protection over the crops. It was said that a light rain around that date would bring swollen, sweet grapes, but that too much water would dilute their strength.
On August 15th, for the Assumption of Mary, the winemakers would bring bunches of herbs gathered at dawn (mint, rue, lavender, etc.) to be blessed. These fragrant branches became amulets: they were used to protect houses and children, to cure minor ailments, or to scent the bathwater. A tradition that united the sacred and the everyday, faith and practicality.
And it was precisely on these mysterious nights that the stories of the masche came to life, the famous Piedmontese witches.
The masche: between superstition and myth in the villages of the Langhe
In August, when the nights grow longer and the silence between the rows fills with rustling and mysterious calls, the Langhe sees the return of the masche stories. In Piedmont, the word “masca” refers to a figure from local folklore, often described as a witch or a female spirit with magical powers: according to the tales, they were vengeful, cunning spirits, capable of transformations and instilling fear in anyone who encountered them.
By day, they appeared as ordinary women: a sweet old lady, a reserved neighbor, a mother of a family. But by night, according to tradition, “they went in masca”: they transformed into black cats, bats, goats, or serpents, to take revenge on those who had offended them or simply did not respect them. Their favorite victims were travelers: wandering souls, vulnerable, isolated, as if the masca struck anyone who dared to cross the boundaries of the known.
The farmers of the past (like the grandparents and great-grandparents of the Marrone family) attributed every unexplained event to the masche: a ruined harvest, a sudden illness, a cow that stopped producing milk. To defend themselves, they passed down apotropaic rites and small gestures full of faith and fear: placing branches in the shape of a cross on the door, a broom on the hearth to confuse the masca in counting the broomsticks, blessed salt under the pillow, or holy images sewn into the clothes of newborns.
It was also believed that the priest could recognize a masca during mass, and that simply tracing a cross in holy water would prevent her escape. In some cases, to free the community from her presence, they would go as far as burning wood and chains from the stable or striking the suspected witch to make her confess. For those seeking stronger protection, it was recommended to surround the house with a hemp thread spun by a pure girl, or to always carry a small bag with salt and a blessed candle.
In Langhe folklore, the masche represent the darkest and most fascinating side of the peasant world: the one where the earth alone cannot explain everything, and where man turns to magic, religion, and tradition to protect what he loves. They are a reflection of the fears of an era and, at the same time, a testimony of how deeply the Langhe have always lived in tune with both the visible and the invisible.
The slow rhythm of August, between listening and waiting
August is the month when everything seems still but everything changes. The grapes take shape, the aromas concentrate, hands prepare for the harvest. In the vineyard, work is slow and silent, as if not to disturb the secret cycle of the wine.
Amid the whispers of the wind, the chirping of the cicadas, and the stories passed down, every day in August is a step towards the heart of autumn. And those who know how to listen, know that the vineyard speaks even on the hottest days. You just need to give it time, patience, and respect.