The vine was a gift from my father-in-law, Pablo.
When we planted it, it seemed almost too small for the space — just a stick, a small cutting. For the first few years it grew shyly, as if it wasn't entirely sure it belonged there.
Then, little by little, it took over. It now reaches across the whole terrace, in every direction. Generous, undisciplined, even excessive.
Every summer, it becomes the first place I sit in the morning. For a few weeks, before the real heat arrives, breakfast happens under its leaves. The shade is cool, the air still fresh.
Later in the season, when the sun begins to insist, we retreat to the gazebo. The vine stays where it is. Doing what it has always done — giving shade when we need it, and eventually fruit.
Year after year, without asking for attention, it returns. A little bigger than before.
— Silvia, founder of Villa S