On the Road

We've been here at Cassellocce for almost a week but already I have my routines, of which one is to take a long, long walk up the dirt road behind the house. I already have my landmarks--1/2 hour to the start of the climb up the first mountain--and different routes I've yet to explore. For the two hours I'm out on the road, I see hardly anyone and very few cars. It's just me and the sheep. . . and the barking sheep dogs that protect them so fiercely.

Yesterday I took a new turn that took me along a pleasantly widing and shady road. After about an hour, I stopped at a tiny graveyard with a sweet little chapel at the end. The iron gate was locked so I couldn't get in but I could see the gravestones, lined up tightly in neat rows and all of them mounted with small formal photographs in oval frames of the deceased. The effect was of an audience patiently waiting for the show to begin.

On my way home I was joined by a dog who followed me all the way back to the house. And, in fact, when we woke up this morning I found the dog in the kitchen--much to Steve's dismay--where he had eaten all the remaining biscotti and plum torte. Fortunately, the dog is now gone thanks to the gardener who called the "Guarda" and, best of all, Giovanna has baked us a strawberry torta for dinner.