Thanks for the autumn memory of you.
I boarded the wrong bus heading back from San Gimignano and it was a blessing. The journey took twice as long and wove through hilltops, valleys and old peachy Tuscan villages. Wooden shutters were closed; it wasn't yet cool enough, but I imagined them flung open to release indoor aromas of garlic and basil, to take in the view across vegetable gardens and olive groves. Hills rolled with the crunch of leaves and terracotta roofs; a blur of earth and gold across the horizon, broken only by the green lines of stubborn cypress trees.
In Chianti the vineyards were sleeping; each vine naked apart from the occasional golden-red leaf. I watched an old man herd his goats across the slope of a vineyard and wondered if he was singing, 'I herd it through the grapevine' (Sorry, bad.)
Tuscan Love,
JoJo
xxx
jojobee
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