“I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day,
a fresh try,
one more start,
with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.”
J. B. Priestley
Thank you so much for the kindness, hugs and support you gave me yesterday. Just sharing my burden with you made it lighter, and I can face this next round of tests with greater strength and courage. XO
Just past this imposing edifice is a bumpy stone trail that wends along behind the castle, over a bridge, and past a small stone cottage.
It is not possible, for me at least, to see such a trail and not feel compelled to follow it. Thankfully such notions also appeal to my English friend Katy, so we gamely set off for parts unknown to see what we could see.
Clad in breezy sundresses and strappy sandals we didn’t look even remotely like mountain climbers, but such trifles are not to be considered when there are adventures to be had.
So up we went the increasingly steep trail, treading carefully on stones worn smooth by countless trekkers.
We passed abandoned stone huts overgrown with vines and bushes, sun-dappled rock walls, and berries, ferns and tiny flowers in the underbrush.
As we trekked higher up the mountain, it felt like we had inadvertently stepped into an Italian version of Heidi.
“Are you tired, Heidi?” Deta asked the child.
“No, but hot,” she replied.
“We shall be up in an hour, if you take big steps and climb with all your little might! ”
Johanna Spyri, Heidi
And we did. 🙂
We stopped often to catch our breath, finding shady spots to rest and visit, turning our heads to catch glimpses of the hazy valley and smoky mountains behind us.
Our legs were burning and lungs bursting when we trudged around a corner and gaped in wonder at a beautiful little mountain village that seemingly appeared out of nowhere: Genestredo.
There were no voices, no slamming of doors or static from a radio.
No people or dogs or vehicles and the only sounds were morning birdsong and the gurgle of water from the village spring.
I don’t know where the inhabitants were, but you could see their mark in tidy courtyards and flower pot lined balconies.
Awash in sunshine and void of noise, the village was indescribably peaceful.
We loved it, and happily wandered the deserted streets dreaming up all sorts of stories about the people who called this tiny place home.
I especially wanted to know who lived in this beautiful stone house with its weathered shutters and overflowing window boxes.
Can’t you imagine flinging open the windows on fine days and leaning out on your elbows to take in views of towering peaks and ancient ruins? Or perhaps sitting on that old bench with a dear friend, nattering about the day and watching the townsfolk pass by?
Sigh. Tis a lovely thing to imagine. 🙂
Next time we’ll continue our trek up the mountain and explore the ruins of an Italian medieval fortress: the Rocca.
Wishing you a beautiful weekend.