September 5th-28th
So much for a balmy September! 36 degrees on arrival in Santa Teresa a few days ago, and it hasn't changed much, other than the direction of the almost non-existent breeze. Battistino has headed south to harvest the new Vermentino grapes while I stay on here in the hope of acclimatising more gently.
My daily routine, necessary to avoid both the worst of the heat and the sunseekers, involves an early start. Watching the run rise as I walk, I encounter a series of other creatures: the neighbours' dogs make themselves known of course, but then there are the hens and their crowing mates, a cute family of three goats at the roadside, an even cuter family of three donkeys a little further along. These congregate in the back yard of an uninhabited house, waiting, it seems for their daily feed which is brought around 7 a.m. By the time I return from the sea, they will be out in the pasture.
A few quiet horses nibble around in another field, clearly from force of habit, as there isn't a blade of grass left there. Along the road down to the beach I have spotted some of the wild boar, together with their young, still around after a night's scavenging, the occasional bag of strewn rubbish telling the tale. Birds are less common than in the spring, though there are plenty of wood pigeons and doves, as well as jays, feeding on the wayside figs.... and indeed on the grapes in our back yard. At the seaside, gulls are strolling around on the sand, hoovering up any remaining titbits from yesterday's visiting bathers. a cormorant poised on a lump of sandy coloured granite in the bay.
I am alone in the sea, despite the intrusive lines of colourful beach loungers, flags and other commercial paraphernalia, which I guess will gradually disappear over the coming fortnight or so. Every morning I have greeted the very African looking attendant who carefully wipes away the night's humidity from the vacant chairs and tables. A little to the left of his workplace is what looks like his own area of repose: a tattered old one-man tent, torn open at the side, a broken sun lounger and a towel. I see him cleaning his teeth in the temporary beach shower pipe before people start to arrive.
Returning I take a different track, a dustier one, that passes farmers' fields. There are sheep in one, cattle in another, more goats, and a pen containing what we believe must be hunting dogs. As I pass, they come to life and bark until I am out of sight. One morning I spotted a very dark, lithe mammal, tail streaming behind, as it leapt across the path from one hedgerow to the other. Stoat? Mink? Pine marten? no idea.
By the time I get back...around 8.45... I am hot and ready for another cool swim!!
And then there is Locoe.... while I am struggling to keep cool up on the north-east coast, Battistino heads down to Oliena on the bus to see how the white Vermentino grapes have done in this their first season. They collect a modest amount and make up a demijohn of wine, which is now bubbling away in the cantina:
A week later I am summoned to join them for the harvesting - the 'vendemmia' of the red Cannonau grapes, the vines that were planted a year ago and which we worked on in the spring. Although it is not recommended to leave any grapes to grow in the first year, my brother-in-law thought that was just too much of a shame, so he left 'a few' for us to gather. We spent a few hours on Saturday morning collecting them from Dule - 25 crates full -
and got them going in the vat back in Oliena, awaiting the addition of the rest of the harvest from Locoe which took place the following day and produced a further 15 crates. So 800 kilos of grapes in total. This should produce about 500 litres of wine. Not bad for a first shot!
No fewer than 23 of us gathered for Sunday lunch in Locoe the next day, with quite a gang of us helping to harvest the grapes beforehand. It's traditional to celebrate the vendemmia with a big get together, but obviously also useful to have as many hands available as possible to get the job done quickly.
Tonino has also been busy stocking up the larder with the year's supply of tomato sauce to make various pasta dishes for the family.
Following a short spell back in Marazzino organizing some new windows and doors for the house there, Battistino was summoned back to Oliena to assist with the next stage of wine processing. The temperature of the mash having gone down to the desired zero degrees (helped along by floating bottles of hot water in it from time to time to speed up the fermentation!) it was ready to be transferred to the barrels, containing 210 litres each.. Here is the press where the last drops of liquid from the grapes is extracted, the barrels in the storage cellar and the sacks of squeezed out grapes ready for distillation into grappa - up to 30 litres.
Back in Locoe there are lots of plum tomatoes to collect from our cousin's land. Traditionally, these are grown to make the 'sugo', tomato sauce, but he planted them by mistake and doesn't need them, so we are drying them in the electric dryer. Likewise the figs.
And then there's the jar of home-made fig jam that one of the neighbour's in Marazzino gave me today in exchange for some bunches of grapes from our back yard!
At the top of Corrasi waiting for the rest to arrive 
'Su cuile Vilithi'(1,170m) appears, camouflaged amongst the rocks and low-growing vegetation, as it has been built using juniper wood and rocks from the surroundings...
The high point in any day is, of course, lunch - wherever you might find yourself.
