We’ve left Verona now, more’s the pity, and in my mind the single antidote is to dip into Italy once more. In London, sips of creamy limoncello and a bottle or two of Valpolicella Ripasso is partial recompense for our melancholy departure from Italian shores. Another is to look back upon photos and remember breathing deep of that ever-enchanting peninsula.
In so doing, I’ve rewound a few months, to Easter 2018 in fact, when the trees were yet to burst forth on trees ravaged by the cold “beast from the East”, and we took a trip to Tuscany. As is ever the case with a first travel in Spring, the fresh air hit us like a flurry of fresh water in an arid desert. To strip off winter layers and drink in the steady warmth of the Tuscan Spring was a encounter which was all the sweeter for its first annual embrace.
As well as the air, what struck me was the light. It had none of the harshness of the cold winter back at home. Softness pervaded the landscape, especially as the sun descended towards the end of its shorter day, and around 6pm it sunk beyond the sea line leaving the sky surrounding it to blush in rosy admiration.
The photos on this post are dedicated to that time, when rolling fields layered with olive groves and vines bathed in the first warmth of a new Spring, and exuded the golden optimism of a new season waking up to Summer.
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