Had I been able to realize every one of the photo ops that I saw from the moving car, the image gallery would look something like this:
Deer cross frequently in these parts.
The old Flaminia way is crooked as can be.
Green fields. Yellow flowers. Bare trees.
Tunnels burrow through these mountains.
Sheep (maggot-like?) graze on a distant hill.
Wild asparagus being harvested close at hand.
Buildings sprout out of the rock.
Spires tower over the towns.
Spoleto comes into view.
Love all the images except maggot-like sheep. God don’t like it when you link one of his favorites to something yucky. So in future, watch what you say about sheep, penguins, and sloths. Enough said.
LOL. Only I must confess I stole the questionable simile from an Ex-Pat writer, living in Tuscany, who spoke to the Alumni Tour group in Pienza about pecorino cheese.
That was our first trip to Italy, when we took along Rebecca’s mom. (In hind sight: hill towns and an aging parent may not have been the perfect match. Of course, after we arranged for the private taxi she was rarin’ to go. [Hey, that sounds like somebody else I know.])