My Home – Ligo Haibun – November 20, 2014

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First snow on the mountains – dawn November 20, 2014

I’ve lived most of my life on the plains of the world, in fact I was born in Illinois … a fairly flat land with miles and miles of corn.  There were a few exceptions; in Italy I’d lived in the Colli Albani .. the Alban Hills just south of Rome,  in my youth, Anchorage, Alaska under a mountain but I don’t know its name and in Eritrea I lived on that wonderful plateau that houses the city of Asmara.

Basically, I wasn’t born a “mountain-woman”.  I have no traditions behind me to use as a reason for my particular affection of these mountains, except if I make them up, which I do from time to time for the benefit of those who love to analyze everything. And if you’ll notice in the preceding lines I wrote “these mountains” because it’s not that I’m in love with just any group of mountains.

So why am I so much in love with these mountains.  I really couldn’t honestly tell you.

We came often to visit friends in Trento, where my husband had lived and worked before he retired and returned to Tuscany. Sometimes we’d exchange houses with a group of his old friends, we lived in Grosseto in Tuscany near the sea.  But each time we’d leave these mountains and drive into the flat lands of the Po Valley, I felt like I was leaving home and would feel sad for several days. The last time, in 1993, I broke down and cried at the site of the plains.

So we decided to buy a house in Trentino. Thanks to a good friend, we found the house  where we now live, in the Sarca Valley on Lake Garda at the end of the Lake Valley. The mountains which surrounds our Sarca Valley aren’t the huge Dolomites they’re no more than foot hills in comparison.  But they cradle our little community between them in the east and west like a loving mother.

I can’t tell you why I love this place, it’s no more beautiful than other places I’ve lived.  Her people aren’t extraordinary.  I can’t tell you why I feel so at home here.  All I can tell you is that when I leave Trentino to visit the south and then return, the mountains seem to whisper their welcome and a tear of joy has been known to roll down my cheek.  I breath in the green of her trees and feast my eyes on her peaks and crags and I know I’m home at last.

cradled by mountains
nestles the Sarca Valley –
kissed by Lake Garda

  (c) G.s.k. ’14

 

Linked  to  – Ligo Haibun Challenge

DP Weekly Writing Challenge: Snapshots (Haibun)

Using words only, take a snapshot of the experience. We’re looking forward to reading your imaginative scenes, sans photographs!

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Haibun

Walk into Town

The night before he’d said: “Tomorrow a walk?”

“Yes, why not, but early ok?” she replied.

It’s interesting how relative time is.  For one person early is 6:00, for another it’s 9:00.  They finally had their coats on and were out the door at 9:30.

The air was crisp, the sun not having tipped the mountain yet, gave its shaded light to the small village, but none of its warmth.

He’d pulled his hood up to protect his ears as they walked towards the fields, a short-cut from their village to the larger town lower in the Sarca Valley.

The icy gravel crunched under their feet.  The fields were white with the early morning frost, with just a hint of the green that still resisted the first cold snap of the year.  The grape vines looked like so many sacrificed skeletons tied to their poles through the fencing along the path between fields.

Most of the fruit trees no longer had any fruit or leaves they looked barren and sad, all that is except for the persimmon trees.  The last of their broad leaves had fallen, but the yellow-orange fruit kept clinging to the branches. Something between modern art and a Japanese haiga.  The fruit reminded them of bright-colored Christmas tree ornaments.

Frosted fields, a bit of green grass, orange persimmons and finally the golden sun that finally tipped the mountain.  Ah what a perfect snapshot!

frosted morning walk
contemplating persimmons
sun tips mountain top

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