This one is where autumn is for me, and that is why I go there every year, around this time. The vineyards are still golden yellow, and some trees are still green. Vast blankets of thick rolling fog cover the fields where the winter wheat just came out. It's cold and dark and damp and I love it.
It's easy to love: it's obviously a beautiful place. Small fields, steep hills and woods full of life. A balance of wild and tame, dotted by tiny villages with stone houses that are older than some cities.