A full year of work in the vineyard leads to an end, the days get shorter and the nights cooler. This is the time when the grapes are ready to get harvested. I love this intense-time although it is the most stressful time of the year for me.
It are the weeks where the hands are blue and the nights are short.
I should be incapable of drawing a single stroke at the present moment; and yet I feel that I never was a greater artist than now. When, while the lovely valley teems with vapour around me, and the meridian sun strikes the upper surface of the impenetrable foliage of my trees, and but a few stray gleams steal into the inner sanctuary, I throw myself down among the tall grass by the trickling stream; and, as I lie close to the earth, a thousand unknown plants are noticed by me: when I hear the buzz of the little world among the stalks, and grow familiar with the countless indescribable forms of the insects and
