Under the sky spring Tuscany

Gentle breeze pours waves of soft rye, and it is nice to tickle your elbows. Somewhere in the distance runs smartly pheasant, waving multicolored lush tail. Fields to the horizon, meadows, groves and lowlands, lakes and oak trees. Why do I feel at home in Tuscany?

Nature, guarded and cultivated by man, leaving me room for imagination. Man is the creator, sculptor, but not the user, not the master. "I" in this case - only the echo of the sound of young leaves of chestnut, it changes you, and echo in the soul of the noise is heard, it blooms those images and thoughts that you have nurtured since childhood. To get acquainted with Tuscany, will hold its hills all day ...

Morning always starts at night. Outside the window - the dark, the only light lights buzzing somewhere outside. Fireplace still warm after the evening somewhere dozing boil coffee. Crunch kantuchinni in the silence of a large farm house, a couple of apples in his pockets - and I have a refreshing bath in the cool of the night fragrant spring, going down to the car with his still sleepy mountain Villas Gaia. Lowlands in the fog, the top of Monte Amiata is still covered with snow, and pot-bellied cloud evenly spreads over this beautiful chestnut hill.

The cool air is refreshing, with the aroma of coffee and smells of cherry and wet grass. Decorous road runs porcupine, sometimes jumping on the road and lost deer in the headlights, but changed his mind, jumping smartly to a few meters up the hill.

Turn after turn serpentine - and I approach the dawn, to the nascent sun. Top with Castiglione D'Orcia, nice to meet the first rays: Val d'Orcia stretches rags, and soft waves of fog is rolled out at the surf coast lowlands lonely islands villas, spaced evenly throughout the Valley by the careful hand of man. Nightingales sing, somewhere in the distance a flock of flying birds, and, like the audience, birds sit in the first rows to meet the sun. Yellow grape vines with the sun comes up the mountains, illuminating the whole valley of light magic.

Lowlands Tuscany - a trap for the world: each photon is so loves to roll down the hills that can do it forever. So light clouds accumulate on the tops of flowers, under every tree. Over time, the field down so much light that it turns into flowers, and the flowers are starting to stretch to the sun.

Nowhere else have I seen such colors fields. Those that dazzle the eye, if you look at them. They merge with the sun, basking in its rays, it absorbs heat and then give it to the man.

On every blade of grass sits small dew drops. In the first rays of the sun drops like to play with a wink to each other brilliant belly. The end of April, and the rye is just beginning to make its way. A week later, I come back to this field - and has soft ears of rye greeted me with his light touch.

The nature is changing: overfly petals with apple, coarsens tender foliage. Within a month the scorching sun in June will paint the grass yellow, and vineyards will bathe in its rays, pouring heat Italy.

From the walls of Pienza amazing to watch the first rays of the sun: the hills, which a moment before sunrise were veiled overweight sleep haze, are bulky and alive. With a sinking heart, I watch as nature-artist paints on a canvas, which prepared her people. With a light hand of the sun warm orange smears appear on the roofs of simple, elegant villas, the shadows become deeper and blue. A couple more strokes on cypress - and is ready to present a picture! Surprisingly, that night fell swoop erase cover the whole picture, as if sand city, and the morning will begin again with painting lessons. Of course, we make allowances for bad mood weather, but if the wonderful moments happen and they are really wonderful, like Botticelli's creations.

By the 8-9 morning breeze is amplified and from somewhere in the east brings clouds, the remaining shreds of mist lifted them - and increase to huge clouds of sheep. In the spring you can happily walk beneath these clouds along the winding paths going off somewhere on the horizon, not even thinking about where this road may lead you. Neither the heat nor the sun will not bother - right now feel only a light breeze and a pleasant warmth on her cheek.

In the afternoon it's time to go into the house, relax over lunch, after sitting on the veranda. And get some sleep, because in the afternoon again go on the road, this time -provozhat sun over the horizon. Probably because of the food at this time there is nothing divine crispy bruschetta with tomato salad with basil and onion. A little olive oil, a brilliant sun a hair's breadth as well as morning and flowers, slightly shabby garlic - from crust of bread has already obtained a royal dish.

Adjacent to the villa is located the castle of the family of the writer Graham Greene. The castle goes long rows of vineyards. Angichane, the French love to Tuscany - they are ready to buy up ancient castles, cozy houses, and completely immersed in the wine, their experiments. Not always, these experiments give good results, because the wine - is an art! Year may be too hot, and maybe vice versa - too rainy. Sometimes part of the grapes are cut off to force the vines left only one, very decent bunch. For three glorious years, there is one lean on average. Then the time to go to the cellar. A cellars here have always paid a lot of attention: in some of the castles they could reach the area, comparable to our stations!

Gen. Tuscan peasants is quite modest: the owners of castles and villas do not wear costumes, finery and expensive phones. Local "palaces" are rather modest: direct thick walls, rigorous rectangle of the fireplace. No luxurious interiors and expensive paintings, the "museum" of French castles. But the main wealth of the Tuscans in the land, the grapes and, of course, in the olive groves. If the grapes can argue long, long time to experiment with varieties, land and even those herbs and flowers that grow next to the vines, the olive groves, each host is always perfect. Every caring owner will be neatly trimmed trees, sawing off diseased twigs, and when it comes time to harvest - drop by drop to squeeze a bright liquid from ripe olives, as if squeezing the sun itself.

The sun will haunt you in Tuscany always, even in cloudy weather: in the form of bottles of olive oil and red poppies at the curb, and plowed fields, and can be - in the form of a neatly trimmed cypress or bottle aged Tuscan wine.

The Kingdom of Tuscany. Yes, these lands are crowned.

The sky in Tuscany forever. Perhaps that is why I am always transported back to their homes, when I look at him. At these open spaces imagination itself suggests those paintings that you are near and dear. The place to dream and learn to love your life. As the sun paints the landscape with light and imagination fills in the blanks own ideals.

View from the window of our villa leads to a meditative mood ... Like a fairy-tale castles, small towns are located on the anthills scraps fields.

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Instead of the castle - a small house, instead of walls and fences - cypress. Air, infinite and boundless.

Peoples, like little ants, carefully working the fields, combing them, stroking fur, cutting cypress and pritalen seams between patches.

It seems that everything in Tuscany is done for the sake of aesthetics, even the road - the angles calculated, the slope measured. All for the sake of the earth looked beautiful. There's even impossible to build - be sure to get permission for the construction of even a small house. And it is not the fact that such a permit is obtained.

Sometimes I imagine that instead of grass - velvet. Even noticeable neat seams. And you want to touch, pat the invoice. At least look.

One of my favorite places - Villa Belvedere.

In the spring often unpredictable weather. Clouds frown, filled with lead - and the lightning discharge into a strong wind raging on the grass. Now it remains only to wait humbly under the roof of the ancient, sprawling villa. Wait until the rain died down and calm down a bit blackened abyss rye.

It is possible to get on some field (and fences are almost nowhere to be found and in most cases no one will expel and will not) - and drown in the lush grass, stand there and hear her whisper, looking at the sky, watching as the clouds are moving as the wind drives away the bad weather.

After the rain I go to some quiet little town on top of a hill (for example, next to me Seggiano) - and walk on the bridge, taking in the smell of cheese and bread. Italians in Tuscany - smart, slender, with good sunny smile. hello often, sincerely welcome, look in his eyes. They are very different than in Rome or Milan: do not have the Roman cheerfulness, energy and rigor Milan Italians. The life of these people forever linked with the nature, size and it is slow.

By early May, begin to break through the first poppies. Timidly at first - one by one, then in small companies, and by May 10 typically dot all fields with red carpets ...

Warm evening rays gently and confidently pick up the hills around the waist, and together they dance in the hot descend to the darkness. Last beam - and nature again covers heavy blanket the ground. The curtain is lowered.

Sunny Tuscany.

Night - a time when it is time to change the scenery, to remove the scene a little bit. Smooth out the creases in the margins, underline touches. Cypress harvested at rest, they are very tired all day so gracefully and picturesquely stand in front of cameras.

Yes, and I need to relax after a day of shooting, the camera change on the towel and go to the hot springs of Saturnia relax as Japanese monkey.

On the return journey will certainly need to climb to the top of the hill - and look over the Val d'Orcia the moonlight. The spectacle fascinating: like little candles float on the waves of lights Tuscan villas on rounded hills. Lost Kingdom of the Sun, timeless.