Thursday, May 30, 2013

On Sunday Afternoon

I set out on my favorite kind of trip this morning: a broad loop through the countryside on the back roads of Tuscany. It was to be a 40-mile journey—all open country—through two tiny villages, from the first hills beyond the Albegna River’s delta up to where it springs from the mountainside. After the village of Marsiliana, I turned off the narrow road onto a single lane that wasn't even on the map. I couldn't resist. The hand painted sign read Colle di Lupo. Hill of the Wolf.

Banks of wildflowers brushed against the car. With the top down, the sun and their fragrance whirled around me. I stopped here and there to photograph the scenery, bales of hay and a big white long-horned Chianina cow; to talk to a man with a sickle cutting erba medica for his rabbits; to a lady herding a big rooster across her yard; and for an orange cat lying in the middle of the road. The cat stared intently at a deep crack in the pavement; it wouldn't move. I shut off the motor and went to photograph some sheep.

I soon stumbled onto a hilltop of Etruscan ruins. From there, I had a bird’s eye view of southern Tuscany. It was almost the end of the day. 

Total distance covered: just over 3 miles.


  1. Your words are incredible......I live through your experiences.....I wish I could live them for real!!! Thank you for giving me these beautiful moments. Cheers to you and yours~

  2. "And all we can do is call things and let them come to us with their tales.
    Call them to prevent them from becoming so alien that they'll be leaving, each one on its own, in the different directions of the universe, leaving us here, incapable to understand a trace to map by.
    I call the things to keep them with me to the last"
    (G. Celati, Verso la foce, Milan, Feltrinelli, 1989, translated).