When I was small there were still stagioni.Il view of the picture, what I saw from my house, aii first signs of spring is clothed in the white of the almond trees, the air felt a bouquet perfume that went from the myrtle, the wild mint, the narcissus, cyclamen and the river flowed placidly rosmarino.Il without turbolenze.L 'ear, not disturbed noise from aliens, register now the voice of the shepherd called to order the most unruly goats, now the sound of the bells of flocks at dusk fell the fold. The gardens near the houses, planted with beans, peas and potatoes ( the only things that did not need to water) were often the destination of our raids to stock up on beans and sweet keep piselli.L 'summer was still pretty hot, the river was to become the skeleton of himself, the absence of water put it to bare bones the rocks making them seem gigantesche.Nei small plots of land planted with grape vines colored the ... to the delight of the red fox (Marian) that sometimes you could hear the grido.Lungo the wayside blackberry bushes were covered with large, attractive fruit. and wild fig trees that grew in the bed of the river (now dry) that gave fruit was sweet to our goal and our theater antics often trsformavano in spectacular falls (fortunately without serious consequences always) The prickly pear intrusive preparing the fruit, but he expected it to rain so that they can eat, otherwise they would create intestinal problems .... (This was the old belief, strong experience) Autumn, it was often a summer will be able, but on a smaller scale for the change of light and the heat less intense, the air hung the smell of must but also of the loose soil by the plow and prepared to semina.L 'winter, his days in court asked to stay home near the fireplace where often it roasting chestnuts in the embers, dried beans and pine nuts, heavy rains ridavano heading to the river and the waterfall, the sound became the soundtrack of our days and night became a lullaby that rocked our sleep
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