Going for a short afternoon walk and for the first time in a long time it isn’t laps of Tempelhofer Feld. along Via Pennino, Contrada Santa Croce, and Via Campoluongo. Olive trees ripe and ready for harvest, grape vines mostly already harvested (and currently the must is being siphoned next door), do not drink the water from the fountain, yes those cactus fruits are edible, and I could never get tired of this view.
Evening stroll around Bonnie’s Italian countryside
villa “Not a villa” looks like at least villa-adjacent to my bogan eyes. I thought the sun and light was going to stay grotty and not put on any show, and then, surprise! Storm over Taburno massif, setting sun hitting the tuff of the old work shed, Ginger the dog posing, chooks also posing, a rainbow, cactus, and four of the five dogs allowing me a group portrait. My FujiFilm X-T4 is finally getting a workout.
Thursday stroll through Italian countryside to the nearby town of Sant’Agata de’Goti. Which is half on a cliff over a gorge and there’s a plaque commemorating two women who fell in love and painted frescos together (or something). It’s all ridiculously beautiful and coffee pasta wine is apparently all I want.
Five dogs, seven cats, two ducks, a lot of chickens, heaps of olive trees, heaps of grapevines, fig, apricot, apple, persimmon, kaki trees, high hills and low mountains all round, old castles, churches, villas all over. Storms when I arrived and storms every day and night since. I’m sleeping so good.
The trees along the southern perimeter road which I know so well. I haven’t sat under all of them only because I have my favourites.
This storm line slipped to the south-west of Tempelhofer Feld. The next one to the north-east. Threading the sunny needle between downpours all afternoon.
The Flugfeld doing that pretty late-summer bloom of lilac-lavender chicory flowers. I sat under a tree reading Fatimah Asghar’s If They Come For Us.
Once again at Tempelhofer Feld. Walking in the fields, sleeping under a tree on the grass with fingers dug into their roots, Kestrel perched on an upper branch above me.
Me, sticking my still new and amazing FujiFilm X-T4 camera at a pigeon outside my window on the last day of spring.
’Cos obviously I haven’t blorged for a month, but I have biked to Tempelhofer Feld a few times a week and gone for one or two-hour walks, sat under trees, read, talked to birds and the earth, and on a couple of occasions the sheep. And the Feld is a riot of grasshoppers, insects, birds, flowers, and apples. The fields come up to my boobs and when the wind blows, it’s achingly beautiful.