Then, Looking Up,
There Was A Sky, Cloudless And Of The Deepest Blue, Against Which
The Snow-Clad Mountains Stood Out Splendidly.
No one will regret a
walk in these valleys during the depth of winter.
But I should
have liked to have looked down from the sun into the sunlessness,
as the old Fate woman at Ronco can do when she sits in winter at
her window; or again, I should like to see how things would look
from this same window on a leaden morning in midwinter after snow
has fallen heavily and the sky is murky and much darker than the
earth. When the storm is at its height, the snow must search and
search and search even through the double windows with which the
houses are protected. It must rest upon the frames of the pictures
of saints, and of the sister's "grab," and of the last hours of
Count Ugolino, which adorn the walls of the parlour. No wonder
there is a S. Maria della Neve - a "St. Mary of the Snow"; but I do
wonder that she has not been painted.
From Ronco the path keeps level and then descends a little so as to
cross the stream that comes down from Piora. This is near the
village of Altanca, the church of which looks remarkably well from
here. Then there is an hour and a half's rapid ascent, and at last
all on a sudden one finds one's self on the Lago Ritom, close to
the hotel.
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