End of October in Vienna: grey skies, bare trees, the usual pre-winter rush. I was running around like a squirrel on a wheel when the Autumn school holidays hit. We had a week booked in Southern Italy for the kids, and in the chaotic morning before leaving, I grabbed one finished quilt for photos. I gave it exactly thirty seconds of thought… and chose our Forest Autumn quilt, all warm oranges, rusty reds, and cozy browns.
Perfect for photographing in yellowish Vienna… and, as I discovered the moment we stepped off the plane into +25 °C and palm trees, completely wrong for where we were going. I laughed at myself—silly me, taking an autumn quilt to the South! Autumn simply does not exist here. Or so I thought.
The first afternoon in Bari we wandered through a park of bright green grass and swaying palm trees. My middle son offered to help photograph the quilt by some trees, and as I snapped the shots, I thought, “Well, this looks nothing like autumn.”
But then the days slowed down. Empty beaches, wild wind, repair crews fixing roads because the tourists had gone home. The sun warmed us without burning, the light turned golden and soft, and suddenly the rusty colours of the quilt made perfect sense. Southern Italy does have autumn – it’s just quieter, gentler, windier. A season of peace instead of dramatic falling leaves.
I ended up taking hundreds of photos, and something lovely happened that always happens when I travel with a quilt: photographing stops feeling like work and becomes pure holiday. I linger. I wait for the light. I notice tiny details I would normally rush past. And because the kids inevitably get involved (“Mum, can I be a knight?” “Can I run with it?”), the best shots are never the perfectly styled ones – they’re the messy, joyful moments when my family accidentally walks into the frame.
So here are my favourite memories from that week, stitched together with an autumn quilt in a land that turned out to have autumn after all:
Wide, empty beaches of Marina di Ginosa at the “sole” of Italy—a kingdom of wind and waves. For hours it was just us, pale sand, and the Mediterranean rolling in. It was here that I realised Italy does have autumn—just a quieter, windier, wilder kind that settles in once the tourists go home. I wrapped myself in a tiny baby quilt while my kids, completely unfazed by the breeze, ran straight into the water and dug happily in the sand. Around +20 °C, the warm rusty colours of the quilt suddenly felt right—glowing gently in a place where autumn wasn’t visible, but unmistakably present.
A peaceful morning on the wild beach in Marina di Ginosa. The next day we returned because the kids had loved it so much—and found a completely different world. The wild wind had vanished, replaced by a soft, steady breeze and a quiet that felt almost unreal. While the kids played, I wandered along the shore alone, finally unhurried, photographing my travel companion—our Forest Autumn quilt. After days of rushing, that gentle walk felt like a gift: the quilt draped over driftwood, the waves whispering, the whole beach slowing down around me. Finally… breathing.
Matera—an amazing ancient city, continuously inhabited since prehistoric times, with cave houses and stone walls everywhere. Inspired by the stone walls, my oldest wore the quilt as a knight’s cape, and the smaller two stole it for their own private photoshoot on the stone steps. Best outtakes ever.
Alberobello—fairy-tale trulli houses, narrow streets, and flower boxes everywhere. One child sprinted along with the quilt flying behind like a banner. Pure joy on film. So many tourists made it tricky to get good shots, but it was truly beautiful.
An ancient olive grove near Monopoli—hundred-year-old trees, the ground covered in tiny white flowers… at the end of October. It couldn’t have been more “wrong” for my Our Forest Autumn quilt, and it made me smile.
Looking at these photos now (grey December Vienna outside my window), they feel like little bottles of sunshine. The places are beautiful, yes, but the real magic is the memories we accidentally caught while I was “just” photographing a quilt.
Completely unbiased advice: always pack a quilt when you travel. Any quilt—even the “wrong” one. It makes you slow down, notice corners you’d usually miss, and your family will turn the photoshoot into memories you’ll smile at for years.
Travelling with our Forest Autumn quilt made me fall in love with it all over again. The pattern for the Autumn version is definitely at the top of my 2026 to-do list—I’ll shout when it’s ready! Meanwhile, its Spring and Winter siblings are already waiting in the shop:
Our Forest Spring quilt pattern
Our Forest Winter quilt pattern
Trees from the Forest appliqué pattern (with sew-along video)
Wishing you golden light, gentle wind, and a quilt in your suitcase on your next trip.
Love,
Rugile
Magic Little Dreams
