A bee took advantage of the good weather to visit the wallflowers.
This morning it was brilliantly sunny. The dew was sparkling and the golden leaves swam in a blue sky.
I had to go into the valley on various errands because Clive is due to be admitted to a rehabilitation centre next week, and as I went down I sank deeper and deeper into fog.
On my return home, I broke the ceiling of the fog and popped into the sunshine, like surfacing out of a cold and murky pond.
But almost as soon as I’d parked up, I noticed that the mist was rising. The photo shows the nearest mountain just peeping out before it’s engulfed.
Then the fog reached me where I was. It was like day had turned to night in the blink of an eye. It could have been a different day; a different season. I was very glad of the blazing fire in our stove.
If Clive were able to stand up and look out of the window next to him, this is what he would see:-
A valley brimming with stippled colour and dappled light, and beyond it, steep pastureland bathed in sunshine and forested mountains blue with distance.
We call it the magic valley, not without reason.
At long last – summer!
If winter is Italy’s best kept secret, summer is Italy’s fixture.
It’s not like Britain where you have one glorious day and then it rains and you say: “I think that was summer.”
Here you wake day after day to hot sun, cool shade, bright flowers and (in our case) a brilliant aquamarine swimming pool!
The downside is insects, but being half way up a mountain they don’t bother us a great deal.
Some insects are a joy, of course: butterflies, potter wasps, crickets, fireflies.
The fireflies appear when we’re having supper outside after dark – tiny pulsing lights that could be sparks from a fire, or bits of tinsel in a snowstorm globe.
They make a display for our enjoyment but at the same time they remind us that the night belongs more to the wild creatures than to us.
Yesterday, May Day, was a public holiday here like in many other places.
Unlike Britain, which tucks it neatly onto a Monday, in Italy it falls as it falls; if on a Saturday or a Sunday – too bad.
I thought I would take a photo of this appositely named blossom, spreading its petals wide in the sunshine.
Just as well I took it when I did because the weather turned wet soon after.
The weather couldn’t decide what to do today.
It rained, drizzled, hailed, thundered and blew a gale all in the space of a couple of hours, as well as the sun shining brightly for a few minutes.
This afternoon, snow fell in huge flakes and I thought we were about to be blanketed in it for sure and unable to go and pay the electricity bill, when it just stopped.
In the brief interlude of sunshine, I rushed outside and managed to prune one tree, a rather unproductive greengage.
One tree out of the 43 in the orchard is hardly zipping along, but I like to weigh up carefully which branch or twig I lop off.
Clive frequently tells me I’ve developed indecision to a fine art.
It’s been grey and misty today with non-stop rain.
Typical, when we’d arranged to have a delivery of pellets for the stove and were obliged to cancel because otherwise the sacks would come into the house wet.
Before today, there was blue sky and bright sunshine.
And a bright full moon.