Massimo Tosoni paces through his vineyards, the rows stretching like ribbons of green under a relentless sun. In the distance, the town of Tarquinia sits on a hilltop once ruled by the ancient Etruscans.
“Look at the rows of vineyards there,” he said, gesturing past a local red grape, Ciliegiolo, known for its cherry-like aroma. “The earth is as dry and hard as stone.” The 73-year-old shakes his head. It’s the result of soil unwatered for too long, where the sun has sucked out every last drop of life, blocking reabsorption of water.
