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The Italian countryside… yes it is just what you see in pictures or what the image is when the word “Tuscany” comes to mind. The fields and pastures in the lows of the valleys, with clusters of little puffy white sheep and the old brick farms. On the rollings hills and mountains beyond lie the little villages, each red-roofed house taller than the one before as the eyes gaze upwards, with the occasional castle at the peak. Some of these hills are accessed by bridges held up by arches with long legs. Others, it’s a spiral road, weaving through the building, back and forth, as if made by a giant sea side crab. On the hills untouched, the numbers trees provide the hillside with shade, so dense that even the leafless branches still provide cover. Even though spring has yet to arrive, there is still so much green, making the whole picture outside the window of my Rome-bound train so beautiful. And every time we exit a tunnel, the journey provides a new scene. One of my favorites is a soft hilltop, lined at the very top with one one row of trees, with all the greenery alive at the top of the branches, and they are spaced so that in between each trunk, you can see the dark gray of the mountain far in the distance. They are majestic, these mountains, some even capped with snow. I’m glad we took the slow train to Rome; it gave me the view, a look at the Italian countryside I could have only imagined before.

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