Well, the snow's all melted from the Canigou, and it's warm again (though cool at night). All the grapes bar the Carignan have been picked. Quite a few of the ferments are done, and cleaning has begun. Morning's feel easier this year, though I'm not sure why. It might have something to do with accelerated coffee intake as much as anything else.
Venus sits high and bright above the pale glow that will be the sunrise as we leave the house in the morning. As the sun emerges and venus fades, the landscape's pastel tones defy description, and my camera, even my posh one, does it little justice. The pastels of sunrise are different than the pastels of sunset. The latter have a richness to them, and a sense of time passed. The morning's are fresher, more youthful. I don't know how anyone gets any work done down here when they could be staring, mouths agape, gobsmacked by the ridiculous natural beauty that surrrounds them. How the nuance of colour can be so vivid in front of you and yet you cannot find the words for them, and your chest clenches and your breath draws deeper because you're so small in the middle of it all, absorbed by the scale of that beauty.
Anyway, it's nice that it's stopped raining, warmed up, and the wind's died down. When not distracted by pretty things, I've bottled and labelled my orange wine from last year. It's called Fool Me Once and it's pretty good, though a bit different.
Not the most creative of labels, but I'm just delighted to have it in bottle with my name on it.
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