As the spring comes to an end, the vine is in full flower; its tiny clusters of inflorescence, now on their way to becoming bunches, fill the air with a discreet, light and delicate perfume which resembles no other. Drunk with their fine healthy condition, with sunshine and perhaps with happiness, the vines just don't stop growing. We have to channel that energy a little without holding it back too much; this is the rôle of trellising, and sometimes crop thinning, when the vine's verve also leads it to overcrop.

In the cool of the underground cellar, the great wine continues to mature, elegantly hiding its strength behind a marvellous façade of finesse. Soon, like the second wine a few weeks before, it will be its turn to be put into bottle. A last racking will allow it to gain that brightness which it will keep after it has been bottled and then give it back many years later in elegantly shaped glasses on a beautiful table. In the vat cellar, men are already busy preparing the wooden vats which haven't been used for six months. A fine, sweet and heady smell escapes from their half-open trapdoors.

We are in midsummer. The vine is overwhelmed by the heat, sometimes seized by drought, and it deliberately halts its growth to devote itself to ripening the grapes; now it needs to be left in peace. We too then, can at last take some holiday. For a while, we can forget the cellars, barrels, tractors, forge, offices... But when we get up in the morning, wherever we are, we will always cast a worrried look up into the sky, thinking, over there.... at Margaux...