Rows of leafy grapevines arc across a hill overlooking a lake. Chickens peck in the grass as tree swallows loop and dive like acrobats. This is not Tuscany, but on a summer’s day, Jim Verde’s bucolic vineyard in Johnston, R.I., feels like a small slice of Italy.
The 81-year-old winemaker shuffles between the orderly rows of grapevines, his baseball hat bobbing above the tops of the plants as he scouts for signs of fungus on their branches and nascent leaves after an especially cold, wet spring. If everything goes as planned, the 2,000 plants in his vineyard will flower, filling the air with a light perfume in spring, before the grapes emerge and blush in autumn.
