At night from our bed I can see the lights of Chiesa Santa Barbara. In the distance they appear tiny but bright, always there, attached high up on the side of the mountain.
It’s just about the only light any of us can see from down here on the lake; except for the silvery moon.
In winter, like now, the mist, the nebbia can block her lights for a bit but it rolls off, letting me know ‘someone is watching over me’. My mother’s name was Barbara, by the way, which inspires and proves convenient.
By day, it’s a long hike, but this is an extraordinarily sporty part of Italy and people tell me they can do it in one hour. I take at least two – and my goodness it’s worth it – just look at that view!