Umbria, explored in full.

They call it il cuore verde d'Italia, the green heart, and the name fits a landscape of mist-softened valleys and Apennine slopes where the light falls slow and gold.

This is the land of Saint Francis, and something of his austerity lingers. In Assisi, Giotto's frescoes still draw pilgrims to the basilica; in Spoleto and Gubbio, medieval streets climb toward fortresses and cathedrals barely touched by the centuries. Umbrian cooking matches the terrain, honest and earthbound: hand-rolled strangozzi pasta, lentils from Norcia, the prized black truffle, and the crisp white wines of Orvieto.

Come in late spring, when Spello drapes its lanes in flowers for the Infiorate, or in autumn, when the truffle hunters return and the vineyards of Montefalco turn the color of rust.