Last semester, I studied abroad in a tiny town in Italy called Tuscania. I spent four months there getting to know the people, the places. I miss it immensely and I began to feel nostalgic today and decided to write about the beautiful scenes of my study abroad experience, hoping that you too would feel the beauty of this place.
Silence. Morning delicately fell upon the face of the mountains, kissing them sweetly with each ray of brilliant sun. The sky morphed slowly, from a serene brush of violet, to a desolate grey tone, and finally into the glorious illumination of the daytime sky, solid blue brilliance. With every passing moment, the morning became more bold, more full, as the streams of sunshine burst forth from behind the massive land forms. The sonata of the morning birds serenaded the newly blooming flowers, bringing them closer to life with each song. The radiant fuchsia petals uncurl ever so slowly before the wide open sky, drinking in the sunlight of the new day, thirsty for what is to come. Thin, Cyprus trees bend gently in the winds and the sun reveals their majesty as they learn to dance again.
Focusing closer than the distance of the mountains, rolling green hills sweep across the foreground. The grass, luscious and rich, soft and deep, a dazzling color green that does not resemble anything else of this world, but rather more closely parallels what one imagines Heaven might look like. Stretching from one end of vision to the other, the fields of green run and run over multitudes of hiccupped hills, until finally the landscape dips behind the largest hill, leaving the rest to the viewer’s imagination. In stark contrast to the green are the brilliant warm colors of the homes, nestled within the Tuscan hills. The edge of the hills breaks into the now blue and glorious sunny skies. The clouds are the color of fresh fallen snow, fluffy and immense. They closely resemble pillows floating through the otherwise unadulterated cerulean. So close, yet distant. If one could reach those heights, it feels as though he could prance along the edges, bouncing from one ball of fluff to the next.
Along the horizon, the stately castles welcome the morning in a new way. Currently static and immovable, they do not change with the day’s sun as the flowers do, but rather they stand firm as uncompromising structures, soaking in the golden rays that have been washed upon them. Every intimate crevice of the massive structure, illuminated, glowing. The impassive fortresses leak majestic whispers of days gone by, of glorious victories and bitter defeat, of royalty and of wealth. Within their walls, they hold the stories of the centuries, stories that may never be known to the world. Here in the stillness of the morning, there is so much to be said, though they will never speak loud enough to be heard. They leave the largest mysteries to one’s imagination, while they sit quietly upon the exquisite green hilltops.
Outside the castles, blanketing the subsequent fields, lie bountiful olive trees and grape vines, in very meticulous rows, running up and down the slopes, eventually overflowing over the top, pouring down the backside of the mountain where they are no longer seen. From the distance, the lines of fruit appear so eternal, as if the stripes of the dark green rows will never come to an end. The pattern is so rhythmic that it is mesmerizing, almost leading the eye and mind into a type of hypnosis if one lets go of consciousness long enough to feel it. The trees and vines are all waiting patiently for their season. This sunrise is not their time. Their still young branches will see many more cycles of day and night before their fruit will come forth, blossoming to fullness. Waiting is a long process, yet in the early morning light, they continue to anticipate, with quiet composure, the day on which they will reach wholeness.
In the utter silence of morning, the solitude makes it seem as though there are only one pair of eyes watching the unfolding of the day. Watching and waiting for the fresh renewal brought upon the landscape. Hoping that there is enough of this luminous radiance to heal the human soul as intricately and fully as it draws flowers back to life.
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