The vineyard owner pulls back leaves and crouches down to harvest two more plump bunches of dark-skinned grapes. Despite the sunshine overhead, I envy him his thick woolly hat as my body becomes numb with the cold.
The grape harvest nears completion as another couple of rows of beautifully ripe vines are snipped and pulled towards the winery.
In the distance is neither the high planes of the Ribera del Duero nor the river banks...
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