Memory is a powerful thing, especially when it comes to color. It’s not so much that I can picture it in my mind’s eye. It’s more of how it feels.
This is how it feels to be in Tuscany as the seasons change. It’s not just one day, or one view. Autumn in Tuscany is ripe, full bodied, sweet grapes, dripping from vines. Families in vineyards picking by hand, deep purple fruit. Olives coaxed from limbs with a good shake, collected in buckets. Bound for the table. Vin Santo, sweet and earthy.
Appreciation. I think the pastel says it better than words ever could.