Heading Home

I took my last long walk today—3 hours up the hill, across the ridge to La Foce and then on to Castelluccio. The sun was out the whole way, a parting gift. We leave tomorrow for a day and a half in Rome and then back home to Philadelphia.

I’ll miss my rambles through the Val D’Orcia. In one month, I’ve watched the wheat on the hills grow from insignificant green shoots to tall stalks of greenish gold rippling in the wind. I’ve seen wild flowers--new ones every day--speckle the fields in red, white, purple and yellow. I’ve heard the cuckoo bird in the distance. I’ve watched baby lambs stumble awkwardly beside their mothers. I’ve learned to dismiss the angry barking of the sheepdogs with an authoritative “Zut.”

I used to tease Steve about never wanting to leave the house but this year I felt the same way. There’s something so wonderful about just being here—watching the sky and the landscape, drinking in the beauty of this place, breathing in the quiet. Respiro profundo.