The first of September. Summer is drawing to a gentle close. There are still vacationers in Carmine Superiore, but we can now count their presence in days. In a couple of weeks they will be all gone, but for now we are enjoying an Indian summer, socially-speaking.
We are now eating the Americano grapes that hang from the vine we inherited from Ezio, and who still (thankfully) looks after it. We're eating them quickly before the squirrels get them all. And salads are gradually giving way to autumn vegetables, including, today, our first pumpkin. The chestnuts are beginning to plump up in the woodlands all around us, and the rubinia leaves are already starting to turn yellow. The pear tree we planted in March has a single fruit hanging triumphantly from its branches. Unhappily, it's not "golden".
The sun, swinging back in its arc, no longer shines into our north-facing kitchen window at the end of the day, and neither do we have that precious sliver of sunshine on our tiny terrace for which we are so grateful during the height of summer.
All these changes are whispering one word : "autumn".
Happy birthday, little brother. And good luck big brother. For both of you, today is the day life begins (again). We're thinking of you.