LETTERS IN PERCUSSINA

Each morning we step outside a little earlier now, and the clock tells us we’re back inside a little later in the evening. Fog settles low across the fields, topped with an off-white frost in the early morning, both loosening only when the sun offers just enough warmth. The olive trees stand still, and the vines hold the shape of last year’s growth, sitting bare, ready for pruning — la potatura . While the days are still short, at least they are no longer shrinking. From the