Here, autumn doesn’t just arrive: it settles in. Gently, without knocking, just as things do that belong here.
First the larch trees turn yellow, then the beech trees turn red, and the Brenta Dolomites provide the backdrop to a spectacle that requires no ticket and knows no haste.
All you need is a footpath, a pair of comfortable shoes and the desire to look. We know where to look.
At Lake Nembia, the forest descends to drink and is reflected in the water, clad in gold. In the morning, the light is soft and the lake holds its breath, motionless.
In Moline stands the little foliage cottage, straight out of a mountain fairy tale: you tiptoe inside. Ivy and American vine blaze red against the ancient stones, and every corner becomes a little picture to admire and photograph.
In Deggia, the sanctuary of the Madonna di Caravaggio welcomes you in silence, its door always open. Inside, peace. Outside, the forest glows softly and the fresh air smells of leaves. Sit down, breathe, and let autumn do its work.
Further up lie the meadows of Prada. The woodland opens up to reveal the sky, all the way to the viewpoint overlooking Lake Molveno, with the Brenta peaks all around. Rust-coloured meadows and larch trees glowing against the blue of the water: a view you’ll be talking about back home for weeks.
Four places, bound together by a single golden thread: an autumn experienced at a leisurely pace, by mountain folk who invite you to do the same.
