Beauty of Rain. Explain.
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priya402:
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Something that it doesn’t do a lot of in the summer in Abruzzo is rain; at the moment up here in Teramo province it’s tinder dry and fires have broken out, fanned by the hot breezes in Italian called Il libeccio or Il Garbino, southwesterly humid winds that nip at the hill villages’ ankles up to towns like Campli. Hopefully this weekend’s expected “Bora” won’t fan them further and rather Abruzzo’s Apennine mountain climate will kick in and give everything a big soaking.

For many beach-loving tourists that visit this unspoilt region of Italy and who understandably get no further than a very comfortable sandy strip, a lack of azure sky and turquoise green clear waters in which to bob and play spot the fish in can be further ruined by the idea of rain, but the beauty that it leaves behind is nothing short of wondrous for those who like watching the beauty of a lit cloud or mist opening to reveal a hidden mountain garlanded by hanging vapour trails.
My advice if it finally does get to rain is drive into either the Gran Sasso or Majella mountains with your camera, and a translation of La pioggia nel pineto by Gabriele D’Annunzio. Although I prefer the politics of Abruzzo’s other famous poet, Sulmona’s Ovid, to D’Annunzio’s title of “forerunner to Mussolini”, this poem is sublime. You can’t avoid getting entangled in some pinewoods somewhere in the mountains neither can you avoid a light show that puts fireworks to shame.

For many beach-loving tourists that visit this unspoilt region of Italy and who understandably get no further than a very comfortable sandy strip, a lack of azure sky and turquoise green clear waters in which to bob and play spot the fish in can be further ruined by the idea of rain, but the beauty that it leaves behind is nothing short of wondrous for those who like watching the beauty of a lit cloud or mist opening to reveal a hidden mountain garlanded by hanging vapour trails.
My advice if it finally does get to rain is drive into either the Gran Sasso or Majella mountains with your camera, and a translation of La pioggia nel pineto by Gabriele D’Annunzio. Although I prefer the politics of Abruzzo’s other famous poet, Sulmona’s Ovid, to D’Annunzio’s title of “forerunner to Mussolini”, this poem is sublime. You can’t avoid getting entangled in some pinewoods somewhere in the mountains neither can you avoid a light show that puts fireworks to shame.
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Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.
Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams.
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams.
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
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