Iannace
now there is no way to know on the surface of our skins have already challenged the contact and contrast emerge more united.
is this friendship that leads us to put ourselves in the usual way, looking out to gaze upon, each in its own uncertainties, in their own discretion strong understanding of who does not want to know why.
Thus we find ourselves at the beginning of the ditch Iannace, at an altitude of 1260 meters, there is no doubt this morning the weather is nice a peak, the greenhouse Crispo ahead. At this level the trees are already in full foliage and green colors the air already: there's plenty to think and the path along the river is already under our feet, quick pace that they want to try once again contact quetsa with virgin land, just wake up after the thaw. Traces of white greet us in points more in the shadows and the cold air current from the carrier makes us think that the winter up here is not really gone and spring is struggling to warm the earth.
Tempers are hot, we go in a few chats and laughter to overcome the gap that separates us from the last bridge, now the track is required, it is still so much water from melted snow to try to get right up to the gorges that mark the ditch of Prisons. A broken bridge, last finoall'anno still solid if a little 'shaky at the mercy of the current makes me think of what could be violent awakening here, and it may decide the weight of snow on the strength dlla of things go through some parts of the forest 'where the water tilted in contrast to the roots has a slope that is shaped by the river bank, you go up and the light begins to take over the forest and moat, even if in a little' the new vegetation will rebuild a roof of leaves and a cool choice for hot summer days. These beech trees, ancient guardians of this place, leaving no room for deep views: you simply look down the stretch dug from the river to look a bit 'deep. After passing the last bridge in a few minutes we plan Iannace superb in its green under the sun. Flowers of all kinds thwart this green and the scent of daffodils in flower softens the air, down nearly strong brand name perfumes should stun passers not allowed to move to violate the first green after waking.
The contrast of green fir trees in the winter of red beech trees still dormant diop as the long winter has now another taste, not the autumn when a little 'green and yellow of the melt and give indescribable nuances, but that soon will disappear, making a contrast fir and beech trees are very similar in the variegated green foliage.
Increasingly, small-scale source Iannace almost at the edge of the road in the company of mossy boulder, quenches our thirst with water from the tops: large beech trees here are home of the wolf, the hare, fox and wild boar, I think, find shelter and roots in the hottest summers: now you can smell the peaks and the pines begin to take undisputed loricati their spaces, unique esmplari tree can endure at this altitude in cold winds and frosts.
We are so bright, we do not see anything but imaginary paths climb that we are now moving in alternating directions with no particular way required. The intense scent of loricati and their resin melts under the first warm just can not breathe deeply as well as small insects hidden in the grass can not help but jump in our step. All the peaks are now visible more or less snow and sea in the distance appears in the mist to define the coastline. Every time I am surprised to observe that although these loricati been dead for many years remain here still, sentries on guard unperturbed as knights in front of his fate.
You can not not love these posts, you can not even think that any work can be reevaluated: a reflection on this insane concept of revaluation used every time you want to go beyond the natural course of things. The revaluation can not be an interior, which matures in under fatigue made to reach out and touch closely these unspoiled places: it is always a matter of respect: those who think and suggests that these sites may be earned and lived through machines and tools whom you ask to cancel the effort of the mountain is on a dangerous road, for our land and for these places. The ephemeral is not appropriate here, only simplicity and humility to live and breathe these places.
With travel companions for this day yet another "outside"
the next
photos are the work of Franco O. and Rocco C.
