I sometimes think the best time to explore our fabulous Apennine forests is not so much in the springtime but in supposedly desolate January. The explosion of foliage has yet to come, the heat is still a vague memory and the almost bare undergrowth enables one to walk around at will without being immersed in ferns or tangled and scratched by brambles. The bare trees (excepting those evergreen emperors of the forests, the conifers) allow virtually unobstructed views over adjoining valleys and distant mountain ranges Vistas arise unexpectedly; unseen villages and farmsteads spread out before like a living Google Earth screenshot.

Yesterday was a characteristic winter’s day in point. We took a lovely ramble on Monte della Serra which faces our house. It was the greatest pleasure to enjoy the winter woods bathed in warm sunshine from the bluest of skies. The trees and the wild life were our only companions. The views were magnificently expansive and the crunch of dead leaves under our feet had dainty signs of life sprouting from them in the form of purple and white crocuses. Truly winter is also a wonderfully comforting season in our exquisite part of the world.