Our house in Italy is absolutely not a villa. It’s a small, very modest, brick farmhouse in the middle of nowhere in a region called Le Marche that no-one has ever heard of (it’s half-way down the back of Italy’s leg, back of the knee, opposite side of the country to its more famous sister, Tuscany, from which it is separated by Umbria).
From this little house there are views that never fail to make your jaw drop – across valleys and hills, past medieval villages, all the way to the Sibillini mountains and national park 40 miles away. That’s all, just a small house and huge views.
It makes us happy and sometimes makes us tear our hair out when things, one after another after another, go wrong, but we love it and it’s added the most amazing dimension to our lives since we first stumbled across it in 2001 and committed the mad act of buying it…
… what is the best sound, the one that makes the soul lift and soar and exult? The song of the nightingale! Oh, such knee-trembling stuff, unequalled for purity, romance and the sense of awe it purveys. We have a quadraphonic service from our nightingales, with some of the best singers in the business belting their hearts out for our delectation from branches at four corners of the house. I have yet to see one, which is strange as they are so plentiful, but when I do I’m going to say a heartfelt thankyou…
…So you are sure the locals treat you as one of them? Do they – really? I think not! I think they just want to get close so they can have a jolly good stare.
See on rosiestaal.wordpress.com
I am passionate about Le Marche Region in Italy, follow me to discover it.
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