Justine Tyerman discovers Castelluccio, in Umbria, Italy.
As a young girl, I had vivid dreams of running through fields of wild flowers in slow-motion, dressed in creamy muslin with a floppy hat. Four decades later, I found those fields near a tiny Italian village in Umbria. Some of the details did not quite match up - I was wearing shorts, a T-shirt and cap - but it was a dreamy place, all the same.
High in the heart of Monti Sibillini National Park, we came upon a vast open plain, the Piano Grande, and the exquisite mountain village of Castelluccio perched atop a hill amid an ocean of wild flowers.
The peaceful scene was a balm to our bruised spirits after hot, hectic days in crowded cities and mayhem on Italian motorways.
We waded, slow-motion - of necessity - through knee-deep scarlet poppies, wild mustard and cornflowers marvelling at the riotous colours of "The Flowering", an annual spectacle on the plain surrounding the village. An elderly, stooped man with a walking stick was harvesting wild flowers with a hand scythe.