Autumn here is mostly a list of things to get in before the cold. The olives, so the nets go down under the trees. The quinces off the branch, the wood split and stacked by the kitchen door, the washing off the line before the mistral takes it to the next village. Sixty-six watercolor-inspired illustrations run from the first fog on the vines to the village lighting up at blue hour.

Outside, vineyards gone red under perched villages and plane trees meeting over the road. Closer in, the season on the table: chestnuts in the burr, persimmons, black olives on the branch. Then one evening somebody lights the first fire, the neighbors take the hint, and the list is finished.