The storm hit at three am, with thunder so loud and lightning so bright it woke me up. Out the window of my room the skies above the Med raged. The rain didn't just fall; it battered as though it were hurled down by a vengeful god. It was not really weather to sleep to. I tossed and turned and looked out, wondering if I should get my camera, to try and get a shot. But I wasn't really awake, I wasn't really all there. The storm became my dreams and I wasn't sure when my eyes were open and I was feeling the rain or if it was all in my head. Peace came but was broken when my alarm went off and we had to get to the winery.
No fruit comes in when it rains, so today we tidied and Axel, one of the team, made an amazing lunch. Sort of like a paella, but not quite. We cracked open a few wines, and Andy bought some of the good cheese from the shop just outside Perpignan. The rain on the corrugated roof made its own rhythm. We cleaned and racked and worked at a gentle pace. Without fruit coming in, there's little rush. You can play music a bit louder, think a little bit more, and listen to the rain fall.
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