The days get longer and the sun shows up for a wee while and then an easterly rips on down from the Steppes and you chill right down to the bone marrow and all hope for spring is lost again.
My mind turns to Collioure and Banyuls moreso now. The memory of muscle pain and sweat stinging the eyes is welcome. Feeling the burn of the light on my neck and forearms as I wait for the grapes to come in from the vines. Looking up to the towers on the hills and the salty smell of the sea never far away.
I want vintage more in February than I ever do in August or September.
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