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‘All the leaves on our quince tree were wormy but there was an enormous quantity of fruit and as we were just leaving for England, I had no time to make membrillo. So we filled our car with them and on the journey back we stopped at a friend’s in Piedmont. It was late September, the time of la vendemmia, the grape harvest, and the Piedmont landscape was drenched in delicate shades of golden light, the same hues as the quinces.’
Val Archer, 2025
Framed
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