Plumed Italians

Yesterday's dusk was spectacular. The sky and land sort of melted into each other in hues of pink, orange, gold, and green which would look truly ghastly in a painting but nature always has a way of merging colours perfectly. I found it very soothing.

Then when I got up this morning, after a restless night of fret and mosquitoes, the sun was blazing and everywhere looked so verdant and joyful.

I decided I should go for a walk. Do one of my epic country strolls which I have stopped doing of late for a myriad of reasons.

I wonder if you can see Pirate?

But then I heard a tooting in the street  - the Pied Piper perhaps - and was met by a plume of Italian soldiers marching, playing instruments, singing, even running as they sang and tooted. It was magnificent. For a bunch of basically hired-to-kill folk they just seemed so light and carefree. I'm not sure what the occasion was but I think it might have been to do with the new mayor of the town.

The whole thing made me happy, not sad. I have had many changes thrust upon me in recent months and a lot of them almost make me want to choke but this little interlude almost lifted my soles from the pavement - O for a plumed hat of my own.

I didn't do the walk but I think this was as therapeutic and the hills will be there as they have always been...and always will.