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Rolling hills, Renaissance buildings, vernacular houses, ancient vineyards, melancholia climbing up the green valleys like autumnal smoke.

But, as Stanley Stewart put it, it is also more than Tuscany: “deciduous forest, sylvan lanes, and old Saxon villages, a vision of central Europe that might have emerged from the pages of Grimms’ Fairy Tales; cattle stand knee-deep in streams; woodsmoke rises from chimneys; horse-drawn wagons rattle along dust lanes.”

There are myriad places brimming with history, perhaps too much history. Cultures, peoples, and wines stayed and moved here in a mosaic of dizzying stability and change. In that mosaic, Jelna or the Sellendorf of the Saxons, Priponit 1832’s home is a lot of change: the Saxond left and modernity arrived, albeit in uneven strides.

When it comes to winemaking, though, it is mostly ancestral stability: wine has been grown here since medieval times, its soil has remained pure, untainted by modern agriculture and our winemaking developed with care, based on the saying that „growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of a cancer cell.”