I lived in Switzerland for eight years, yet as the train gently swooshed through the Italian and then the Swiss Alps it was as if I was seeing these areas for the first time, a star struck tourist, a camera happy camper but perhaps you will excuse my enthousiasm when you see these majestic mountains.
Wandering in my old neighbourhoods I come across our village fountain, or one of them. Always beautifully decorated with seasonal flowers, houses and gardens displaying the precision of form and neatness that seems to be the norm here. Nothing out of place, not even the firewood which is stacked like a perfect wall - exactly as I remembered it in the farmhouse round the corner from the house, all those years ago. Such familiarity which comforts us as we walk by, the new houses and constructions fueling us with curiosity and questions about what was there and what has gone.
My bedroom balcony of the swiss house with the wisteria in full bloom and some of the lovely flowering trees in the area. A morning catching up with old friends from my walking group in Manora. Such happy times and memories of walks in woods, fields full of cows, cow bells, cow pats, and camaraderie over coffees.
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