A poem, full of snow and silence, from Piemonte

It just keeps snowing here in Piemonte. It would appear Covid has been good for the climate. The roads are used less, there are fewer cars on the roads yet plenty of tractors to be seen. Everyone, except for us, seems to have a tractor because we are surrounded by farmers; tending to their vines that produce the fine wine like Barolo, Barbaresco and Barbera, hazelnuts that make that Swiss Chocolate taste even better and many more products the world loves to consume. This is a region that produces, this is an industrious state of mind up here in northwest Italy. We are nestled up against the Swiss, French and Italian Alps and it’s a pretty time of year.

Thankfully, we have a neighbor that clears our private road, and we have a little snowblower that I bring out daily to clear the forecourt so we can take our cars out for essential shopping. It is hard work, but it’s rewarding and keeps me learning how to listen to the trees. And they are talking and reminding me to listen as they drop snow on top as I move the snow around from below.

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