Strips of terraced housing layered into
the steep hillside with cave cellars hewn out of the rock give little
space for gardens.
Ms Tagalong spies pots stuffed with
geraniums, mint and tomato seedlings on the numerous steps she has to
climb. Mmm ripened-on-the-vine tomatoes to go with the firm,
pear-shaped local cacciocavello cheese, cured in a cave hung from the
beams for 6/7 months in 90% humidity at around 13 degrees.
Sitting on the balcony she looks with
wonder at the allotments tumbling down the opposite hill. Keen for a
closer look she and Mr Ideasman took a wander and spied wild borage,
olive trees and lettuces. Too early in the year for much else. Ms
Tagalong spent a few minutes looking at the chooks. They clucked
around the stony ground guarded by sleepy dogs curled neatly on top
of their kennels. Just imagine Snowy doing the guarding!
Walking back to town an elderly
gardener paused as he harvested some early artichokes, purple and
crisp in their freshness.
'Bellisima', said Ms Tagalong. Pretty
much the extent of her Italian (hopefully he didn't think she was
referring to him) she gesticulated wildly at the camera. He nodded
and grinned. Ah, Italian gardeners.
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