The masseria is right there, among the fields. In September summer is not over yet. Not in Salento, where prickly pears, pomegranates and grapes ripen between the brilliant white of this masseria’s lime and the universal light blue of the sky. Women iron clothes, linen filters the light of the sunny squares, chilli wreaths dry. Your welcome comes in the shape of a bunch of firm cherry tomatoes on generous friselle sprinkled with oil and fresh oregano. At three p.m. women cooks knead dough and make arrangements for the dinner and for next Saturday’s wedding. Black and white grapes are on the table, in Primitivo’s land. Spaces inside other spaces, gates, courtyards, suites, verandas, fruit trees. Here you can speak English, German, Japanese. This family estate, open to foreigners, lives a cheerful and seraphic time inside high cool walls where one would like to watch the four seasons go by.
Words Paola Corini
Translation Alessia Andriolo