For years, Agriturismo Il Girasole was my mother Giusy’s silent kingdom.
She rose before dawn to bake the cakes, checked the rooms one by one, and personally selected the fresh flowers for the tables and the gardens. She knew the regular guests, the children’s allergies, and the favorite wine of the couples who returned every summer.
It wasn’t just a job: it was her home, open to the world.
Then, one spring morning, she called me into the kitchen. On the table were the reservation notebooks and the handwritten recipes. The light came in from the windows and illuminated the flour still scattered on the wooden countertop.
Sit down, she said, removing her apron. I looked at her in surprise. Has something happened?
Yes, she replied with a calm smile. It just happened. For a long time, I’ve tended this agriturismo like a precious garden: with perseverance, patience, and a daily presence. I’ve seen good seasons and difficult seasons, summers full of laughter and winters of silence. From today, you’re running it, she said simply.
I remained silent. I knew every corner of this place; I’d grown up with it. I’d been helping out for years, and I was increasingly responsible for managing reservations, guest care, and the apartments. I confess, I expected it and was happy and ready to take on the role. In that moment, I felt a strong sense of belonging and sharing in the project that had been born with sacrifice many years before.
I was able to reap the rewards of all my hard work and continue them with enthusiasm. I created the website, organized small events with local producers, prepared local dishes, cakes, and cookies, and added a few modern touches to the rooms, without losing the warmth my mother had created. Every choice was a balance between innovation and tradition. Guests returned satisfied with the place and the family continuity.
The agriturismo hasn’t changed! It’s remained the same place it always was—just with a new voice telling its story.
And today, years after that day, I feel grown up and happy to be able to repeat to my children what I heard from their grandmother Giusy.
It’s the right time again!
More and more guests are asking to visit the vineyards, to taste, to understand, they want to experience wine. It’s time for this place to evolve; what for years have been just rooms will be transformed and become the heart of the tastings.
Our history is in wine.
We need to tell the story. Tastings aren’t just samplings, they’re encounters. Guests need to experience what’s behind every sip. In recent months, we’ve begun to imagine a new setup. Events among the vines, sensory journeys, and pairings with local products.
Dario, my son, after a wonderful experience at the Consorzio della Vernaccia di San Gimignano, is ready to take the next step.
telling the life of “our” wine.
That’s why we’re transforming the agriturismo once again.
The gazebos overlooking the pool and the splendid view of San Gimignano have become a corner of paradise for sunset aperitifs. Among the vineyards, Dario will organize guided tours, explaining the pruning choices, the work in the cellar, and the differences between vintages. And it won’t be impossible to meet Grandfather Giovanni, the jealous guardian of these lands, an opportunity to share our history with guests, toasting, gazing at the hills, savoring the flavor of so much hard work.
The agriturismo doesn’t lose its soul. It’s transforming it once again. It becomes a place to stop…and listen!
When the sun slowly sets behind the hills, turning the rows of vines orange, you can find my father: “Grandpa Giovanni” sitting on the old wooden bench in front of our house. His hands are large, marked by time and the earth, hands that have spent a lifetime pruning, tying shoots, and harvesting ripe grapes in the summer heat.
Do you see these vines? he often says to those close to him. When I was young, I started working them. At first there were just a few rows, but every year I added one, patiently. It wasn’t always easy; there were years of hail, cold, and poor harvests. But the land teaches you something important: if you respect it and work with your heart, sooner or later it will repay you.
I’ve done my part, he always repeats.
But this land, these vines… they’re not just fields, they’re years of toil, of hope, of early mornings and harvests, they’re my life! And in fact, even today, at 85 years old, he continues to work tirelessly in those rows from which he cannot detach himself.
The legacy of Grandpa Giovanni and Grandma Giusy is not just the fields, but the story of a lifetime spent among those rows. We will tell you about the work of our entire Tarantino family, wise custodians of the land and the daily labor that today my grandfather still sees partly in his hands and partly in the hands of my brother Antonello, who has concentrated his work on working the vineyard, also updating himself with the latest in mechanical grape harvesting.
They know the vineyards one by one, as one knows the faces of loved ones.
Dario and Sara, my children, and my grandson Mattia, as children, ran along the rows, drawn like a perfect drawing. Neat and well-tended vines elegantly follow the curve of the land, and the bunches of grapes, every September, still today, ripen and are ready for the harvest.
It wasn’t uncommon for them to chase their grandfather, begging to ride on the tractor, perhaps with their friends staying at the Agriturismo who, coming from the city, had never seen a means of transport with such large wheels.
And in this land lies the work of a lifetime. I’ve learned to know it season after season. It has given me satisfaction, but only because I loved, cared for, and respected it, my father still repeats.
Don’t rush, this vineyard doesn’t like impatience.
And my father, though no longer very young, is always present, side by side, in a silence filled with complicity. It’s not just a passing of responsibility, but a continuous dialogue between experience and the future.
Dario, Sara, and Mattia are no longer the grandchildren helping, they are the custodians of a trust.
I know that all the young people in our family understand that the legacy is more than just a prized vineyard. It’s the conscious choice of the family, which, while still present, has decided to share what is most precious with them. Among the hills illuminated by the sunset, the same vineyard will continue to breathe and live, as it always has, only with three generations to care for it together.
