Yes, I know it s one of the most hackneyed quotes in the English language, but young John Keats was spot-on with his observations, as usual. Here, just a few miles from Lake Trasimeno, the morning mists hang in the valleys like billowing clouds of pure white smoke until the sun gets hot enough to burn them off, and the fields and woods are alive with locals gathering in the bounties that autumn provides.
Autumn is, in fact, a very busy time for the small farmers of the area.
As soon as a reasonable amount of rain has fallen after the exceptionally hot, dry summer, they are out ploughing and sowing for the spring crops, mostly wheat, barley and oats. Since it s dark now around half past five, this often goes on well into the night, with the lights of the tractors dancing across the rich brown soil. It s in between times, often on Saturdays and Sundays, that the harvesting of grapes, olives and chestnuts goes on. The grape harvest, or vendemmia , is a particularly delicate business. Then the whole extended family, plus probably a few helpers from the village, get up just as it s getting light, and do the whole lot in a day, cutting the bunches of grapes with large scissors, filling baskets, then transferring the contents of the baskets to trailers.