Chateau Fonroque is for me linked to the feminine. My great-grandmother and my paternal grandmother, as well as my mother, are those who first and in various ways fostered my attachment to this place. Every Thursday afternoon I was the object of the generosity of my great-grandmother Adèle, whose sociable and caring attitude applied to all. A pantagruesome snack of grape pie served as the gourmet basis for this ritual. A box of small coloured pencils was systematically added, containing the three primary shades plus two secondary ones and the colouring book that went with them. I remember meditatively filling these paper books and getting caught up in the comforting drone of conversation. Later on, these visits became rarer, but always favoured by my grandmother. When she arrived at Fonroque, this loving woman, always perfectly groomed, took off her shoes to put on rougher ones and walk freely on the heavy earth of the hillside. Picking and gathering were on the agenda and we took advantage of the few chickens and rabbits that still occupied the area around the house. Anna and Gilbert, the people in charge of the vineyard, greeted us with their exclamations and complimented the inevitable growth of which I was proud as if I were the architect. In those days the trimming of the vines was done by hand with shears. And Gilbert still had that gnarled, massive look, his body taken over at any moment by the recent memory of the daily effort required to maintain the 17.5 hectares of vines for which he was responsible. Fertilisers have put an end to these manual practices, as the growth rhythms generated by these inputs are impossible to follow.