Copyright © Louise Bostock 2007-2013. Please give credit where credit is due.

Saturday 21 June 2008

Sliding into summer

Sultry and overcast.

After about a month of almost continual rain, we in Carmine are welcoming summer.


All the windows are open (yes, even at night), and every corner of the house is permeated with the scent of jasmine. The geraniums are flowering on windowsills everywhere you look and the lavender has taken over the herb garden and is going for world domination.

Yesterday, we cooled down for the first time this summer with a dunk in the old village fontana, fed with freezing mountain water. And a mother deer and her youngster paid a visit to Palazzo Pollo.

Everyone in Cannobio was in sunny Saturday morning mood. The Vice-Sindaco in crisp white linen was holding court outside the Caffe' Centro in Guardian Angel Square, and the post office was humming with the unmistakeable perfumes of shower gel and sunscreen.

Today, the gentle schuck of Ezio's sickle as he tackles the grass in his meadow in his own time-honoured way, is drowned by the roar of multiple strimmers doing the job in a fraction of the time.

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Saturday 21 June 2008

Sliding into summer

Sultry and overcast.

After about a month of almost continual rain, we in Carmine are welcoming summer.


All the windows are open (yes, even at night), and every corner of the house is permeated with the scent of jasmine. The geraniums are flowering on windowsills everywhere you look and the lavender has taken over the herb garden and is going for world domination.

Yesterday, we cooled down for the first time this summer with a dunk in the old village fontana, fed with freezing mountain water. And a mother deer and her youngster paid a visit to Palazzo Pollo.

Everyone in Cannobio was in sunny Saturday morning mood. The Vice-Sindaco in crisp white linen was holding court outside the Caffe' Centro in Guardian Angel Square, and the post office was humming with the unmistakeable perfumes of shower gel and sunscreen.

Today, the gentle schuck of Ezio's sickle as he tackles the grass in his meadow in his own time-honoured way, is drowned by the roar of multiple strimmers doing the job in a fraction of the time.

No comments: