tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10933129768975944052024-03-16T02:09:29.472+01:00natura grezzaimpressioni, riflessioni e annotazioni sull'appennino abruzzese e oltre, scritti personali.naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.comBlogger889125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-32901657481401053772024-02-18T11:49:00.007+01:002024-02-21T12:42:45.253+01:00Grotta d'Orlando e i sentieri di Monte Longagna<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEFSld9aumM_DB1lk9lGHXuHL1DExXw-SSQyQgnI_l8GYNu54En2dVDxQvoGkdj4cKvSlpCtPc28l_cct6XXqbQSdIO-23sBjtEA73txBA9HyLA-cqdpvGlsRQM4DPHW4UTJ9wel8sHFCpLx34DR5vuwZKb3bBtGv4mICGOfufx59HMRhtaY7LQ6NUQAw/s16000/P2182022.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">L’anfiteatro montuoso di Monte Romanella, Monte Alto e Monte
Longagna custodiva molti sentieri, il più famoso era la Strada</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2eRBpqJKRd46GRQxF1DSiPAGABiMZZazLUFUEiwLsWTk6972YQO3lkW6sjvKUOtL1nSDrkLLQmsy2fvBIArGBMjU0kemtnp6Nh0iNxpbdqwGBi1weR3w9aDZ4R3prANCel_ff5_H8YlJmY6yae7cgURNcsc9VTgcB0ZW7zcjvPHerYnci4rTOty-z_dQ/s16000/P2182072.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />dei Centopozzi. La
celebre Grotta d’Orlando si raggiungeva con una breve diramazione dalla via
principale, il nome così particolare<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipm_IlPu9EkUZnvthDPCmv0TPVqRAerLeSJXXQ1Zv3GVxpJzaHQIAL1-AKHvLeFWdRCXAx5JQKiSprCUxwIdO8wbBS615JtOBIbwgB2Qk5RN9ibAZgD-_TBjIsYw5YD-7U9Ak_9MQBJspToYDiihtU6LMQqaNUzBvnb8Cc1FWhWkCZ0sV8IGCXpzhNqMo/s16000/P2182029.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />cercava spiegazione nella tradizione locale,
chi l’attribuiva ad uno dei paladini della cerchia di Carlo Magno, e chi rammentava<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUl-5nWtS2mm1rVY1L6W6HCgZazBXL3Y8zKi8WGyFW2wzFxQ3382pwkEcu1dMWLD9ukVublLobcoCfvYI3HioIzxllZkPbsNYODLW1BixcHvgAT7y-6r0mjNsb6IsbW9ozHLThdIPBGKtSa_lAUxUt5j9e0uIcoDrGQxjWYwKiC2pxxFtVC6gkvTBjLk/s16000/P2182069.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />invece semplicemente la correzione del nome originario di <i>grotta urlante.</i> Il bosco ci accoglieva nella sua bellezza, tra
faggi e<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_4iQr0-idUJIX7LDb8FcynTGXG2pelMNnNfyNNQkO0bykMqLyaMJjU5xS0ZyYnmgxOM1MtmTPfYJI_YNc_slLGsIfm-KvLJ1A8BEcHFgU4YPEJ96z04pu05gxmtHbfZjMo7e07qj31x10ot-l-IhMIm9sGjjibWgdnZM8cd8JxunB3AMlcRIX6tJW9sQ/s16000/P2182075.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />piccole tassete seguivamo i sentieri per Fonte Longagna. L’ultimo
tratto di mulattiera segnava marcatamente la via, nonostante non<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcr11oPbGj_zsAC21kmZdAEbcGazGTnZoFDmlcP9xXDuDnlq30_FRVLhIvUQs5P7XZdBRCF5u_I49JVvLPmp9AwAEWJqQ9ZA_WAUrQ33n2djMbcWTftCXGiaNDFbQ5DzyCuwuN1u6r30LZADrpq0tU7oCUHFRMw5XP3GF6XYNDlbxmXAqlNPqQOD6NZso/s16000/P2182124.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />segnato, fino alla
Madonna della Candelecchia. Poco oltre scoprivamo i ruderi di un antico
santuario al di sotto della Rupe di San Leonardo,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcWjOlfKvQ9zC4H1MF5AaF2Hmz8hO4Ehcc6ksOYKeczuvUSr1WbS_A-nvIxBLCTtJQht9liQvaosUSEIdxCZN6t5kwq__jmhgDTxtNmX3CEJvbWwZwm71onjonsBZzAe6fQOGsETr2qVcH4acWwcKtgnLf6a7Nx1rBr7byS9NDFp8XymlugznXOlPePU/s16000/P2182131.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />il fascino di quella
collocazione e i residui di mura così ben integrati nell’ambiente erano davvero
una bellissima sorpresa.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigxFlC8WP7GGTaaIfb2IGYG91yBXDqe6ePMKdCDZDg4ZOfxFQITaveCZhcZBOpJIStf217P7QWBunsheHmqT3gAZ2jqtIyfDMg1CWiLqrNGAYQyv48tV-bN-BpJoj5krr5rcMZe5nOc3FyjZ3fxULtrnEzyQ0RANkjzvupDlc0FXW6mSLYY7g3yFRxQQU/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="972" data-original-width="1920" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigxFlC8WP7GGTaaIfb2IGYG91yBXDqe6ePMKdCDZDg4ZOfxFQITaveCZhcZBOpJIStf217P7QWBunsheHmqT3gAZ2jqtIyfDMg1CWiLqrNGAYQyv48tV-bN-BpJoj5krr5rcMZe5nOc3FyjZ3fxULtrnEzyQ0RANkjzvupDlc0FXW6mSLYY7g3yFRxQQU/w400-h203/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-88371392404741398572024-02-03T12:14:00.003+01:002024-02-10T16:48:52.232+01:00La Madonna della Neve di Castelvecchio Calvisio e la zona di Carapelle<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWZSxHVD8oBwzR4vwsW3nIHzviuQKdbBTpT9cLGFRagvHc6b-qgbufF81qtZxP4btm0tIJ5uplD_mBVK1N66vuS9lzsYwQZh2y9y44naYG0oSLq4jOxcW97K9LJfJ3tZNWjVDKUhjLyvyWxTfHwSYmruGITNuqvaEntCioNP4oC-0Y_SxLUCk6-DeJuag/s16000/P2031778.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Un’antica mulattiera scendeva da Castelvecchio Calvisio in
direzione dei numerosi campi coltivati della Valle di Vusci, intercettando </span><span style="text-align: justify;">sulla</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQF8jEssOPq4QKvsxn_zVJYEEobLJDVxHtTMiNnUshIXrH7s5Oa2FJBJuWD8D3YiiacKViINwYPBjU_g0nD8_kFhB96VGqxp5dnucj4ZVXr3M7cyb0qvMJwQt79Yx0R_gc10qDMTCMZuqXYovSVV5K_8yufFuYDgOjWMFCht9yLDXLgukh9LTS6L2zaM/s16000/P2031725.jpg" /><span style="text-align: justify;">strada la suggestiva Madonna della Neve. La notevole fattura della chiesa
dava sfoggio di importanza nonostante l’incuria del tempo</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmr0kCGLm3qqSOZh-nr9FxZW2ogsDPG5Hl7g-WZ99vSU3TnF3yJh2dcLXd3F9Q9RNZ9SUa9ZB2FF40gUIN02N5E87F_4qAgH-OGUu13SG2-VkP9n7eTvFrpEOdkvrGNJco-0vmf5Kp1SkzunShYYbVh6lZTYE9CcOsB9T3fYxD_ONPUb96nl3uBT2uk7M/s16000/P2031754.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">che l’aveva resa allo
stato di rudere. Fortemente incassata nel pendio, a ridosso di un tornante, avevamo
modo di ammirarla sia dall’alto,</span><img alt="" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggGWOCJOQg-zdnRyaFvytFBlBP05oev6f6ipz6rEqQuhg35j_3b3ht2UzAO1fkg1mDgaRAljFqt2gAQcGB-rn4iWOL8jaTZ6FmcJZAswHmyLULgZYdsQCKwUUMt1z3DYSxm1QFpIIFTlSnsRJl0HzApfq0lTUsmnhzh1tcHANPufjQYk6RonAkv8fEI6U=s16000" style="text-align: center;" />con il campanile a vela alla nostra portata,
che dal basso dell’ingresso. Purtroppo qualcuno l’aveva privata delle
pietre lavorate<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gakZ3VJcMQbQsEybv6WsqU5WhhEZxnMHU3nqY-F4XPWBqXB11et3Zmp1nwVXNEUiY7m3WQKUfP4IDld8rnyZd29xYApB0D4I-1W2SR8k4OBqGdvrEp7C60rn8EiyQbe8jMhFBSkmPlGr2jwI8M8PeLu2Dhxa9P0umsnhmYNfMQx6xjTOK9VkFN5ZRaE/s16000/P2031737.JPG" />più accessibili: erano state divelte le cornici del portale e
delle finestre, rimanevano soltanto i decori del frontone d’ingresso e la<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyt4Vj3kXkdrDlKfVTGhmDbwYg5QHP5hQlvqq291E3nHFXLFt4I48ibok-aKUzJFUUbfgW2EXAdrbnupuq_B2f5lGZ0c3PH9nezHZMlp_S_BG4pfk5QKG0yPgi4haNDIRFBGKDvyAC-T4J9aXVxT9pfqwo0Vvr2-YOS1HwiBFcSUQffZrwpEksSqMOZpI/s16000/P2031786.JPG" />finestra sommitale. L’interno dava dimora a rovi ed arbusti, ancora si ergevano
i tre grandi archi del tetto, e quel poco che rimaneva<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZeE3glKO1NTTE-9mh8iW2RoHnOchCMdzsQj1QKiCxYNS158TGhxAh6NeIlqgnzE9u7rJM_Fz5ZR2W96tmpmP17_Z3zkXu2LkvMVVl6y82lwceLl-1ENjVhOXh-bj4S-4VZyG4dwOA_1S9U53yyR6_-6QD7_FiLXDTgG1cC3ciZKSU0-lE7sNXky5KiYM/s16000/P2031764.JPG" />degli altari era evidenziato
dai resti degli affreschi. Non si leggevano più le immagini sacre, era visibile
soltanto un essenziale decoro<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyOoAvBRxoaF5dY6jtM9kAhS1PgdpmFi65iOi5FEgpwW2wUHoklQW_0tlyBavvoqtXdFpipFTeccFbBXZexhWiwMLvD8EID8iXiEjIbgV-OH0d3KOA2y7kCi5PC_YSKvnvZuCpnnRGqFty8so3SnEaVKSYRob_RG7QtsAEka0ZG1VKL6ZEzYsvo4HQQ78/s16000/P2031770.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />vegetale. Una datazione lasciava risalire la
chiesa al 1650 – D. F. DE F. P. S. D. ANNO DMI IUBILEI – ma la storia si era
perduta nel<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj784dQ93gcoZDr6mnwwpjWwyvrWlXO2ap2n587y7ebNlQye-R_U8hDy0N4XP8U3RrhHofKYdUcp8EPdLYXGL5z6zsmUceM-W9aAGIUtCWAz5on_JmxIZSGlXyI1bDa-2BaEjsRxnQG_lIIsxGe1_GJClQgRpHfeYEhZHEw_WQiilQ5dZblWDwpd5BDPs8/s16000/P2031745.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />tempo e rimaneva soltanto in qualche memoria tramandata. (Per
approfondimenti <i>“La Montagna e il Sacro –
riti e paesaggi</i> <img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUAJRBpnl83MYKf5DwPzXA69VsXw2LeWa0PfyM7vU5ZhZoTV2tOnYEJkGzTvRgxV4tUxPcQMUKFdzrtQPMdWMGwDGUpPNLjdEMPb_jI_sdeniBAIvrpatO7Hk_pvnFcfKhfJtFyEc2g2pyph8ERTgxfqVCTdwM5Y8LIn96yHn-d_3FAQFVjZJpCRb98cw/s16000/P2031793.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><i>religiosi in Abruzzo</i><span style="font-style: italic;">” </span>di Edoardo Micati, Carsa Edizioni,
2018). Riprendevamo il nostro percorso in direzione dei campi<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIner2NwLgbyTsqlTrQPKWf_N1jcygCsaoECzlnX44z_keP88u2Nmfcooxy2bGUVAJWXolt8L3QAA-bD_2AeUGGSkmWySpI3V4tB4lUoR7G4fG7-mQTd16K62tFoSC1tcGOdi_cI7IaAxs9hyphenhyphenNOy5EyLnoNFq9Iyyf5yP6JV7VEacnhoAUBExhBqGhenU/s16000/P2031834.JPG" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;" />sottostanti, tra
la bellezza degli uliveti e un’illusoria primavera. Un grande casolare isolato
catturava la nostra attenzione, un<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJb6XOu48xdQVpX6qUuEDx26KxCVDtw1RBiH78oqFjAJi3BA33t3xauW_hzHsAkduQkxFkpJJlo-9iR5cuEcGMP6zFjPzu8vdbdIIzEHBHeuKAevq_hRywYMehk5RP9nZlEheicedu-coEOiL4cbmjcycChoojYSoM5tTGuvNeCY5-8hS4fROAwt585TI/s16000/P2031829.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />tempo quei luoghi avevano vissuto più di
importanza, di lavoro e di frequentazione. Raggiungevamo Carapelle Calvisio<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOlqUottPGf_Jwh_YXyMkTIYxqYP1BJJyLL7QLYGtl1ijOGIyKC0wbIPMtCt2QGJQj3sqFCg97p89MpzwqEGAZf7uodR4HMYJUCTW1nupXpScKLRj4UUNJHdnt_sfmqSS3vTknpotSj7c6W-cCsaRloCw60UmTxm9eesc6RGD0ly3cThzGYE8Uz3V-Qo/s16000/P2031869.jpg" style="text-align: center;" />immettendoci direttamente nei suoi vicoli, finalmente erano attivi i lavori
della ricostruzione che ci lasciavano sperare di poter<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3MzhdNuhdH5EalWGSwJGzk1LgQB60QWraeN2Gkg67i0tVjIBIOsNWDLkC7RJVBqBz4qlLOl2zzm4p4jQoOd7SNRLoNZn7tU6K5_m3CuWgvSTRSpQ5KxY9yuOdfrsE29FDHNHbxEAoOhDhb_YkNZgo4eGQbxkR5lTT4zDdYOzmYEm7VS-Pn-_c8XMjgZY/s16000/P2031931.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />ammirare presto un
bellissimo borgo. Tutta la montagna intorno era un dedalo di sentieri, seguivamo
quello per Villa San Martino<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SzsZgf31GIvz7BKlTS46oBg1izB3omMc5X5zyeExF0sCsBOi4bPCvsUGBhHZ2wW39tQnDoeQr5JCTBR4dBLdI6tG3eZEbaMTGhB_oF49kTst66iANRx9DnEYn-kQciLAUMiT8rzOZRv3K9jy7zEiQL5NN93mheycaMHWBL8uJQsILJZB-rURLzNvtWw/s16000/P2031942.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />e la Chiesa di San Cipriano, alcune delle testimonianze
più antiche della storia di <i>Carapelle</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQRWkJMxRh6th_UCKTuAqaSK_VKzeFb6iRTT-ONLlcy8GxT2wo9E-YglIN3tPmc3QZfpBBwi0YPbWMQOYa59MsD6culFJD6ytc-6izWERtNZiWkVRjd-YfKOoHdtZwUxVeyqrIP_uZ318Dhog_hg019wj-tT8GFr_7acpkZT5nJGSVrSISxr0evz7SJc/s1417/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1417" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJQRWkJMxRh6th_UCKTuAqaSK_VKzeFb6iRTT-ONLlcy8GxT2wo9E-YglIN3tPmc3QZfpBBwi0YPbWMQOYa59MsD6culFJD6ytc-6izWERtNZiWkVRjd-YfKOoHdtZwUxVeyqrIP_uZ318Dhog_hg019wj-tT8GFr_7acpkZT5nJGSVrSISxr0evz7SJc/w400-h300/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5l0SXAjb5hEc2yXZ0s4Q8_Dg4KAEy6qfrYSL6qt_l1yQ09Op-5DeI09NBPGMKyg7-DIfJYd0a78UFgnzp7RIqA1MXLTO6xdkYTPsxd_kpi_2tmraKrWu0d1TgTtU8DcO89v1AUFaPLiACGKhMs0JJtgakOOmUMMK4uB21rwj71LIdccsnD_s4yKfQRo/s1920/Senza%20titolo-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="969" data-original-width="1920" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5l0SXAjb5hEc2yXZ0s4Q8_Dg4KAEy6qfrYSL6qt_l1yQ09Op-5DeI09NBPGMKyg7-DIfJYd0a78UFgnzp7RIqA1MXLTO6xdkYTPsxd_kpi_2tmraKrWu0d1TgTtU8DcO89v1AUFaPLiACGKhMs0JJtgakOOmUMMK4uB21rwj71LIdccsnD_s4yKfQRo/w400-h203/Senza%20titolo-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div></span></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-16124108675408770002024-01-28T14:46:00.012+01:002024-02-07T09:44:06.161+01:00Traversata di Monte Le Quartora dai pressi di Casamaina ai pressi di Roio Piano<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhReSSGmtwEFDE3bwtvJ6g3rzn_jfsOASkZ2_M9jtHwGQ395XaTJypuZaGBJpEKOIt-5fwQH0NM6czN3r4LU-9KSaYzyOe2_HQfK58tPUOQdfFzzNIThk_FwoQAcUHdwm8ZGPqd5kLs4jBGjyhuB8gteLWGNhkVPyVRO47-qAA4w7y4dIkSin_Yd08eLGc/s16000/P1281579.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Compivamo una bellissima traversata di Monte Le Quartora,
partendo dal territorio di Casamaina per raggiungere quello di Roio Piano.</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigga8D3gOmEYmEnOw7sL9Hhgm3qmV7cHqglqzq6AFeU3-i_U88g7BFA86oAupbBSMSGMpQB60_O_BefRlmnVrrFvfFcThEspFuLjSfh2m-SakKp9DqZ9EZJIXQ1Z8_P6XQQvS-f-liTQIx0b-j02FTNyhdT0D5VJakD5ATVppDp1IgKFyaftX4L5Wm85U/s16000/P1281495.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Una
comoda carrareccia saliva inizialmente nel bosco per poi aprirsi alla bellezza
dei panorami, quella strada era probabilmente una<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaaYHpJVCVfVlEfTJhjtjZI-88lpYvlRlOtsN3EnaebZpEnzHHRn8Jdl7yFcWDCqQxeaQ15gjhLpzXr_tvMwzjThEYbz0_JmPsqi_jktjPwwTvNWNd2VQDCTpp59Egl5557kw5JxQk2_idTXHw8uOolFA5Zerc8wiGiQIcn3-cCpjYYAOOchdwLKOaTcE/s16000/P1281479.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />via di transito che dava
accesso alle miniere di bauxite. Superato il valico, la zona di Terra Rossa
lasciava affiorare il colore che le<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj65ErxmmuVE3KlnyWLHfxYFNRZRg0AopfOHA5Ubn15NUrMKM0esoRjKpIIxkIdLUmSjW9iGiQ1B2H1B7iE01ayZfIivXAVzCrw8W6MaJbnL9aZQHoE4z5hRFykuvawVFd7zpdsKQamuJNwXLn5LSSDTgRAP3ygWk2YI5GQoJLQdnzOESdCtiwTNqrM2jc/s16000/P1281496.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />dava il nome, purtroppo non c’era la neve a
riverberare il candore sui pendii, il bianco giaceva soltanto a chiazze e nelle
zone d’ombra, e</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8f85khRO3sl1rCIyroJIyZ5jAZZSKkmIgWhOqKlG5S2k_diuxgSA5ERx7jz8X5uk8sw1aeOHqdEiOZwIDo5L5qLHgO2sT2E8eWce7Ma4Wx1WSP3SrB5FDaFDFV2vBb6c2RzwxWt9vY-CHdARESe9cysDUJW7byjFC4M5BsPys7W3bAPBkUd1IXCeuLc/s16000/P1281513.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">tra i ruderi dell’antico <a href="https://naturagrezza.blogspot.com/2023/01/le-rovine-del-monastero-di-san-jacopo.html" target="_blank">monastero di Santo Iaco</a>. Un sentiero a
malapena percettibile si immetteva nella carrareccia che</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzXDmWgzLLLWUtcrF_mE8EaggUZ1bnkOYws93nNmy6lo3hIp6nZn60FRoz-tm4fjlHq7oLmLx27Mzx1TlIN6SBJkzhMcgrA2psnnnkPwftYRlXjG9W2m6ZDwwGJqerQ60BaYhzbbr9_RLUogkVhQYbUxL-Y_J9Xh8Ax0tJA7yYoFaB_IuFPbMZeVG8Ro/s16000/P1281561.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">passante per Pesco Croce raggiungeva il Passo di Vallefredda, dove un vecchio fontanile dismesso faceva
da crocevia. La bellezza</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSF1DSh5P2vPQMXZsNdr-G5pecsr_7nU4ka4ufqRhgWXf6SwtDPEIpfodBsAqo-IotXoSLoCKfD8DNsYehyphenhyphenGCbq_zy6eM0p_Yp_QcU0LTv2DrmzzoOu93ISlFDmmFJgRBrMKBqctGA9jmS4wn0jit4lO5UYHQoDmsB0glDrxBdUyFewVpg7C5fLNMfHgE/s16000/P1281593.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">della Piana di Campoli si raccoglieva protetta dai
rilievi intorno, le casette Michetti, ormai completamente dirute, rievocavano</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDluxzkuNtK8NUp94GjwbDNp93rTmbDOgbZtaZyxS1Mp1nQZsC-lUValj-Idgo3yThjghCiLgSXRaiqqi_bPIFLq-SAfGIPess6PUyixlwDcI7Z4N1b_tqddXxoghNMsAQ51XmEX2eqtIaqSff39PIGeEJ7lbKndFpyBqpbpQRmJPmS5ebFe1lb7L8fYw/s16000/P1281574.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">la presenza dei suoi ultimi abitanti, famoso era il ricordo del pastore
Vittorio che fino agli anni Sessanta le aveva mantenute</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_US5UhQnDbXWwEoIV7izoP_0JIZyQKT0TYKf5YN38kij4LZBqrD-i7n-_vEwv622Pns1WWD83tDOs_YlSoBaIao5dPNwaHMucVPMjJBZSIkG2ikmQHgp2UM7iiVG9GFUTaN1sTgyqIPCehlprtZ9-DFLhzb3Z7gYUoqw6mU-Ew0aNn89wVsUEPWP5zyE/s16000/P1281604.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">funzionali soggiornando
negli stazzi. La luce bassa del pomeriggio iniziava ad inondare piano la valle,
mentre i buoi e i cavalli</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyiLedcm1WuCPD2iMcsoLRK5zQgSgOunFsEiIDpezgnbMvbJO6rtOQBMnGinvd7PXAiAz1u7NEYD2mCHp7HaCyLqa73IvEpNw1Zn9u6OAuvSTnhT3j5LWxJvYVcEVFLAe5Se3j06KCA1Ql_lLk2Vbwku9bhrxmbj7vbZb6Cd6MDTmYj1CN7TIkkq55Ug/s16000/P1281622.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">ci guardavano incuriositi e allo stesso tempo disinteressati.
Gli ultimi avvallamenti della Costa Grande fino a Capo Ripa, con i suoi</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyL16jDrloXkiQDg1JdkmWzDsKeoyn5PIz15BAdvOmvlqRuLPsX2Jma6EA4GSpdXd5R6sJUXgdHp_sDDsa9V2NGZRmn_fMmPMu5RyarF2fcoJtDVGI0vQAvM06O85qk5gEq5Wsi5sknOa1W3NhCNcoI-YMY3BiwAKE-22xHKrNuYtGNPGDEdMJaVmBO-E/s16000/P1281668.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">maceroni disseminati e l’erba rasa e stinta, ampliavano ulteriormente il fascino di quei luoghi così similmente lunari e solitari.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiftvjWSk2CfHro43zGXxscC_NHnjwv5vfwJGEm7buMWj5uhnd1FoJ-65iQhLjkIr74VV19Osw6040xOgwZi1m-WebruRHhec5qDvG4Hd1LPIDby0dzIlRvlM2D8eu8EQY7dAWVi_7gZHAz7kObtaLs9r6ybZkFsk64X3RBydH9FFTd9Od5922s6iAkvsE/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1920" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiftvjWSk2CfHro43zGXxscC_NHnjwv5vfwJGEm7buMWj5uhnd1FoJ-65iQhLjkIr74VV19Osw6040xOgwZi1m-WebruRHhec5qDvG4Hd1LPIDby0dzIlRvlM2D8eu8EQY7dAWVi_7gZHAz7kObtaLs9r6ybZkFsk64X3RBydH9FFTd9Od5922s6iAkvsE/w400-h201/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-538162563732352512024-01-27T15:16:00.004+01:002024-02-04T15:48:37.162+01:00La Croce del Poggio e la Valle del Campanaro<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipItT8E1RlLHkp46bddH6nAA8xeA1715Cf1P-o6HdNhZnqlFTigRh1kEoSz3-FYiEAeUSmrH7ybFv7N-RUmBcDZkNH7V5Ax6cy6ttlP8hhWcImzOYj6SAu_M1E9UvHAi0KE0iR0b_6LIYFIEV6n2nyXW8b5HrBfIMr0j5X-nhME-GXdAzOemH2sBM9Is8/s16000/P1271388.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">La Valle del Campanaro si articolava in un dedalo di
sentieri diramanti la carrareccia principale. Mi colpiva molto la cura di ogni
tracciato,</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEhaqB9T7nnpppQKt0R7CN6b21g3HwFQICpiKfreci4iYv99N0_E9vr2hTpbTB21smV1h704TfO4RRUHEKoTsdiB6b9TNdeZZJ1wNWZgvHvkYSQkGtKJHC1M4zjzfENry9qfu1XwEj1MMiR0TUVJ_TLpDr8qviGhfyZyXRaoCw_WXkXZw1fVyGrZOhYZY/s16000/P1271323.jpg" style="text-align: center;" />ben delineato e certo, che non lasciava dubbi a chi li percorreva. Nel
fitto della vegetazione, tra querce e pini neri, alcuni rifugi<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAom7SAdmD6GogXcZ78ggBsG2VLI1EmFhK_fCTgeDEHVS5_0XOdEXlRHG3czPdpPs0yIDIcmh3FojKg2xQ56LWpHAtJLcwPZUXE77TFuCOCffKR6ZjQdj4S3ja-Mp-4U_mrBc3F4ZQSgNyYqcG99-xP2oQCW5d8GGosmI_Y5tNMA2kv2PYVLR6_7GZM2w/s16000/P1271427.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />davano ulteriore
nota della presenza umana. La Fonte di San Rocco si individuava con l’edicola
dell’acquedotto di Poggio Picenze,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETFY4Ei9gbVdOf10ahEah9zX6TLhnuYaKvxrV1NPuTILCeebmX37MO2jdKRP0qfyHg1aFPBCceTjA6aQeAJSsk09IPv_l1-wsi3sBz_5xNRNimzAi7eQvsuRqIsm5UxrsT240mnc-r1c5hrAq-mIenDdFFoG9Uur9VlonRRgKXxjwqGleuRA89s4piL0/s16000/P1271350.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />datato al 1895, ma la storia non si
soffermava qui, era in ogni tracciato che vedeva rimboschita la montagna da
oltre settant’anni,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxRtfz2y6EkrXfmKUoKhSBLiRV7jI_cG2SvcnsOG3lCO-NVPrvF3Cz9Ve1qU-7ByWRAHrYn9ZYvJxZEyzuhHMqyKNB6XEViM77CLnX_b9Ksa4p6am4wrqybfuNwQfcKnC7h3Fi16OBFiBadkIdeJxE4AmPYU1NkD9yNoDifzuGHAPlSdgKqdn_kCJccxI/s16000/P1271444.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />nelle pietre deposte con cura e nel magnifico Muro dei
Giganti. La montagna del Cenerale mostrava le sue bellezze anche oltre<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcuzAiS2H5M-c8le3d9h4H6iKbCHpma4rqL4QhofCmKkMgtphl9pnrYjUkZgM0JStemIwn4yMp60VZjFhqvGzYitQhy-DAf5wFI2wiXqh6CtUhIgm1KeJymtc5dhddWaz92ZJIi8mA9IrU7zTetzXiI55irLRczIdeUTheOXPM3vKLWLCV2vbrCq-jyw/s16000/P1271391.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />la quota
boschiva, raggiungevamo la Croce del Poggio che nonostante la modesta
altitudine svettava sui panorami sottostanti e apriva<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0T6Ag7OUpDhhXR4rHHCZNiKHk0LrL4MlP9Id8g4ue9SQW7tax5NlT8ZOObHI468TtSv-jkqBWsYm8MTwDXPnFhY7PuLtPdVk1S3-kSMJSUYU4WSnU3KfT2fBziybmd3xYBEjDNj0FXdhv-TOUKVic1psoU4xKI1RPLqbLi6T0RkEMCVMxlI736vBkf0s/s16000/P1271395.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />la vista come un grande
respiro.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZGYV-oocBdgf98yBqemm0P9F0WLDRbA_T3ngHg7JgQUcDq9HLMrWAw3WNZexfe32tJB2382g87dlHm1cy-NeuQUDoCsxz763Yl4L_1C0LbUqFLdPQcgnW3HSmi-OKYSsCIFkF4j0sOK5l5xyJbqLOa7te8qe4U0dJ0SxX06BELMaRN-OpUwqYlOLJH4/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="969" data-original-width="1920" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZGYV-oocBdgf98yBqemm0P9F0WLDRbA_T3ngHg7JgQUcDq9HLMrWAw3WNZexfe32tJB2382g87dlHm1cy-NeuQUDoCsxz763Yl4L_1C0LbUqFLdPQcgnW3HSmi-OKYSsCIFkF4j0sOK5l5xyJbqLOa7te8qe4U0dJ0SxX06BELMaRN-OpUwqYlOLJH4/w400-h203/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-249285163678605552024-01-21T16:38:00.074+01:002024-01-29T17:31:00.075+01:00Peschio del Principe, l'antica Vena Rocca da Castel Sant'Angelo di Cittaducale<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54pk41F8mBH5kuY5XJCfVX7ZsS5DJ-fM_uqs9FPO9JPt5SYGLazALmJ43CBLvByhDgNWuCtIPXO2wnzgbV98Ggz7CxMzE_HQmh1mzb8H4oB6YN4aUuyUt0HTnACF0Uyag3VyqYsgdvMH5m4zlSzNddBPCauUkfKtl7OmbsXUZop1AKlyR4A99ckqf0PU/s16000/P1211157.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Le vie di Castel Sant’Angelo culminavano nella parte
sommitale con un alto mastio risalente all’anno mille, protetto da una cinta</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1nwkHJOJ-yH9X-S1IKu33NjCA6XzuQ7by0ghvukLfLM0zgw8KuLALPjiWJo7CoLJ0fb7GKSBccCSx7mx6xRAUrY1z_DZuUfRKR1G6-kdNS1zGL6fN-u0rtlB6Z0jDpgvyVqolGYrN9pc-3QBA44tg_Ra6LHudz60tqrki76KjARvk7siOX6uX5c-iAQ/s16000/P1211153.jpg" />muraria ancora ben conservata con feritoie strombate e bocche da fuoco, antiche
predisposizioni di difesa militare. L’</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">affaccio</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAJ-mF3Ar2260uCLqSQbJEyHBZ-z9c7d_nmLVYWaywQZmxsCFV47Es6RPDfTuX9apb7UTSjaqrKaAB2zCSY0sVix1ySFAzpkr3gxp2-oyacPcqUcJBKgMdTzfuCxsE1WCTpb794i-ytpV6lvYp-ZjSLnbr1gIdVMpyCdDfQ1xzQ5qnxDHEjut6ehegXA/s16000/P1211196.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">panoramico godeva di una
bellezza straordinaria sulla valle sottostante, <i>Umbilicus Italiae</i> si poneva comunque al centro di tutto</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IL4qLONtWgpBC-X_brgfCb9y5stsiSRw82IIVH80R916HRD8PMfydMr8c4PUc-SU9FPjiQYngqodkQQktF9US01OLmN8IMkzfpLlkp0n1X4D58l5EbO4KPA5p86WyssPZ0lWlMWbOreWWiq0UyNvoHbIIDyIsdZWN8fHr2VgeeaZnXfESM9nzoAhJE8/s16000/P1211207.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">quel
circondario. Un sentiero molto curato si apriva tra arbusti e ginestre salendo
ripidamente la volta della montagna fino</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiDWx-172P1mQ7I61csJAWESOTnPvHmOUSVMXYiJv79hwmoLxxE7vtZOoBQ7Is4xMWPkJnW_mOVan74tn5sfLXhIj1bATp9TjI37HBC_RF7XvQ98h2_6kZ_gd1UtVFjsmnDoKpKZ5pDfSKCrlFiaRjog4tXPjhpTplk_3zAqqUJMSl9K9ituG4mQmVJBI/s16000/P1211183.jpg" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">ad intercettare la strada sterrata per
il Peschio del Principe. Guardando a valle il Lago di Paterno rifletteva come
uno specchio il sole</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJGEGsafocz9eJ3LdMmD5hSrFMSvqNnfF6ccTEisaJLhsVnt7xRtqDDVUaG4CyJe6yCpnnLCOAJEizXYTQ5G7JFM1G_CKL5PyMC5cFkUT1NhSUipfrNzK93Ap2mIzWH4ziHKMyyrt9PUaLLaaPgoAl5HhJ1coqqDf5OWFu1wKK52LPpZ2QlIoFQe_w4cM/s16000/P1211173.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">circondato di azzurro intenso. Anticamente noto anche come
Vena Rocca, </span><i style="font-family: georgia;">"U Peschio Du'
Principe"</i><span style="font-family: georgia;"> manteneva ancora parte dei</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIuus-YNAb4EgNsfcIKfoKSdiXifUJcaz0vMoK8eyNsNZ6IrmN1bejNaQ60gOn3K6kTt415NTyjqCeogaPa0XioKrML_LEXtK7se9JPc9KvECGSsaYr01KcZawccaOHYQQNSdejrTlwbHo7ZRSHMuwP-0-erTLjvjZ_rcF-rLKrHk7OaPE7c_64fJ1iY/s16000/P1211246.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />ruderi di un’antica costruzione
medievale probabilmente appartenuta ad un signore di quell’epoca. La sua collocazione
era certamente</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwznFr2zccVmpCr23ePqvvf1nwr9O99y98zwDhJQk__ou15l2Xkeyg5a6ahXU_FQu0qcM1StENQtZX_0uS2Nayx72iE3cYrKIMK8N4FlsmMx1jrJP49AJR-Cv_CY48sLPZJrBr7lrVwrAQfw68Xb9b62JwNVRpa9iR1MdIGCOq0AJqyZETmVP2Oy8WLqA/s16000/P1211245.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">a controllo dell’importantissima via Salaria sottostante, e non
solo, lo sguardo era davvero in grado di spaziare a ridosso di una posizione</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__Fa9ZQb66xswlf6QsHBPpw7TIvyRJMtdx7uYXQabBRkhOYcVLtGKwOwnO_BV77tprMJPD22s3wvq0Zq_099z0_4ZdHMba3JY4OdM_ssKOiZC-8UOv04L8pMNztTbeDmSmtwJfgnineOKPcZEuni4Xr2YgJMpncZpKxbeb2-7Bnb_McaqQdwmSzUGrh8/s16000/P1211256.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">così privilegiata. Per la via del ritorno compivamo un anello passando per il
tracciato di un acquedotto fino ad intercettare il sentiero</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJU0MThiOftF1B6pSQI63peCofHdI0SDXEe1pEZ_3WQwwM6S3WEsmlr7gBE20N9HojJjNKnXlqP44Y1eGgEhfQ4fPpmOJOU_PMaGYTG15cVq-XDMuZ6WHfSLaK8JR47zz41fi59aaLlzW3V2FGC7cVFU36vjeZgyGGEhD0lpaNDFfxU9HqQu_bk06kDE/s16000/P1211283.jpg" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">per i casolari
diruti di San Martino, dove un pascolo di armenti conferiva ancora più quiete a
quegli scenari. Tra i vicoli di Castel</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPmQ7ySAJtT_zcrfxdWPT9qmt0cqo9A6XHzvvzxit0-4QkpA8K35j0KMAXGHj3mQH2c56Z1dLUEmDNLXKddaTDKf2WgukF520nRATWkGftS9wWVHOWt9wDgGfV9x9826sbEIeDDZ8-f_SfYvfqvYKn0bHYiBawOhtr2hOnAtdKQOtSj1RvDCw8EvyzxYs/s16000/P1211311.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sant’Angelo giungeva la sera, le luci
fredde crepuscolari inondavano d’azzurro quel mite pomeriggio di gennaio.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_dIIiA9lKH0OyF-fqrP_0xw_6tKIwphyYq6V4zxlTcjDrUD4Xo5TsfyQcvMRKfb4F6GgArBQr9857iqm487NEdL4s8zERwJQ_OSKeeci4u5cZZcIIsnF7Bu0NvqG2faUxeERNfNE5dYzSxypyB4JZ7wIPf7jUDkfq57Gmq-H0rHsbBDMRY3Y0ZoJ8Epk/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1920" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_dIIiA9lKH0OyF-fqrP_0xw_6tKIwphyYq6V4zxlTcjDrUD4Xo5TsfyQcvMRKfb4F6GgArBQr9857iqm487NEdL4s8zERwJQ_OSKeeci4u5cZZcIIsnF7Bu0NvqG2faUxeERNfNE5dYzSxypyB4JZ7wIPf7jUDkfq57Gmq-H0rHsbBDMRY3Y0ZoJ8Epk/w400-h201/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-57854141940206925092024-01-19T19:30:00.001+01:002024-01-29T10:51:56.443+01:00Il Ghetto Ebraico di Civitaretenga<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLfWjM89L_uyqQLS_uRXpvNTpEIc3mC8dql90-CsigHFVdvYfgJVa3MIA9EftWpoVnbaqLtdi2wJplQG1cATIUoubCo-bqnsYBjrAim8pX61h3i_QM1UEIgf5qJV-TjlH7PkgzksmHL4orwtSZE2_UPpRPt93IDcV1kCu5ZTvhjk9pYh165Pg1Tb8k8YU/s16000/IMG_5241.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Il Ghetto Ebraico di Civitaretenga custodiva i fiori della
vita, da tempo ne supponevo la presenza, e attendevo la possibilità di</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN8HXXe-BnwCDWAaWvXyN-F96MV4Jtgvwv_AX1tG2PZC6v_2MtojyMeI_TaEJBdnoqnHGEwkXSH-HXCenvpyhI87iTn_qfyNKxuLc7RbUQByNELwMlA-UoJBWEWV6ML9AmyCp27oM6Zcg4g8TXYCDgfm6zIaWpgvqeNDGAhgighlrQhzalv-Gt-zaHPEM/s16000/IMG_5218.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">poterli ammirare.
Una parte del paese era stata restaurata e restituiva agli occhi la bellezza
del luogo, con i suoi vicoli e le sue case</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc89qq6y4falp-G0p9GzAxsysx-PC7puRJyxfV8FOqHwNEFlCsmxSMhifkywbPkqyHsNvD-q-UivBcZYw-TRtqUZxbvMKQw-C6TPBDR1FcegO1PCtvssOm-mIMnKrqTdXvpHnSzScpj1U7wbWCDk5-egTFlycyiQcsnbAJADY87zYb4CBUueUhZlfjDLQ/s16000/IMG_5232.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">stretti gli uni alle altre, mentre
il Ghetto ancora attendeva. Dichiarato dalla Soprintendenza sito di interesse
culturale, nel 2021 venne</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1P_wMyZkJm4-ufXkPZlvmajH48BxIIcCPS62eFETk6NHG2ujLkY7so6NTEMn0zczZBsLCO7C3B_EtHwIGPPDisH-kPdENn7vXOahireXaMbnS8z7bcenSRq7xykbwha7v59EeBGEN42Ogie75Kb3GvOARAR1cqOffjHFmL3u-QNomQ-v4N1Zb_MJTLM/s16000/IMG_5217.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">messo in sicurezza per consentirne le visite guidate.
Finalmente erano stati avviati i lavori di recupero di via Guidea – originaria
via</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNta6xv_It1KEFRnoRP8wi0sf2uxGXhPh3PC9VjXIQ8S4sR8REd0bWVgFW4cjn6wyNdlf7fjKtmRNGndPVroXRKE1kUUS0M1mukj_dTRTHwiEsIw95b7URS59huIMAud99CHvm6-hE1eUgSu0OsJ9sKrZ4UtHCUx8W_DctcpYUMS4g_TTBU5FhK2o-lM/s16000/IMG_5266.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Giudea che a seguito di una legge discriminatoria cambiò nome. Ci vorrà
ancora del tempo per poterlo visitare, ma nell’attesa</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAyioM59n1AcozjXyhF82sfHbpk1vZVvjTqNLGYCFAG7UQa67E8crwLvXPq8qQMmDN86lREp8Io6AUPmzuml8i13i3A9pNEJNCU2by7253ZEWAh9y6-Z7yJkXck5DVPm2cUgnSK_HvWE8xPz1VkHjQUXHx87BEvBrni5EwsgsjUfzOaj9UZ6Z-o2Pz5Y8/s16000/IMG_5227.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">percorrevo altre strade
trovando comunque i fiori della vita incisi sugli architravi e gli stemmi in
pietra, segni di un passato legato</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xtOD4-Q_YlVfMkS2nDhzfzlTKGKg_Gbgm_jzZvIcSAgv90ddveTM8uOJi-eB26riwNKNGMltqDihqDcFa-UJUuQ0etKggTx_szzTts9qxMJg0RlFoouvCc2clJGyCFkYPI8KwWHEDlAJ5FXeIj7O2X0umc9nPvMROzfue8FKaekU-s6lgC-70IZqdGw/s16000/IMG_5254.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">alla cultura ebraica.</span></div></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivoDo-yhzGvQj5lSKaOrA6lhxBjruZDWz41OnGo5C1PmuvhVIew9xLemDzWSK3Uvg30UU7avfAKM_Vt-ty_9t-ZCn6TryKw7PbIaGVK6D4NZ64WAAQpIF5S3s_WO1FQXr-ZuvOq9OstIXMzfhGv75QaKblkr9diQvCh3H1yxNG3H5APuv-WWTHNS3x83A/s16000/IMG_5244.JPG" /><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08sXPbth-NwPeej11ZuMABrqS-w-Pf_OY3mPC2-BNE97Gzc9-OYYG4UO53RlO9RH3OXL9X-552v-6SEr-dta_S2KCBty0zS27rSRj5JDLtkbbulz7EWYktAUwEl5YLyoXhe6lFMBFP9-3XfAy7FM_7cznDn17dvGR5VFNIIOVsUlmDCS67AuzQ_j1kC4/s16000/IMG_5223.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /></span></div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-18076113266798732552024-01-19T14:49:00.016+01:002024-01-29T10:12:36.889+01:00La Madonna della Neve di San Pio delle Camere su Monte Costeria <p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDJ6usuBS5wTMINnzoKOj1FOxTTGAyQrQi6E2DDhvBaHSeCVStzuy_L3tIQKtaroFJ2boH7XbKGY3LM2ImiW3T58ILbPPoBxw0ZKGp8RLalEQguGjlLnzCfANeEecq7aobYEAV4GziVi9-3yGg1vCU4lDn70247DIBnul8POVFJJys3SjCH-feT0P-3M/s16000/P1191007.JPG" />La piccola chiesa della Madonna della Neve </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>era nascosta nel fitto della vegetazione; chiusa nelle sue mura aveva per maniglia</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9GNQkA6G8yJd9j3ZivPmffa7LNDgtUKnNqk-e2kGhIV2s303EOX8uiOO7L-zZ0OYuic8DWA_tII_H__yFOFs1ldZmlT1OMWkSmG9x9ra0jxmi2Dwl5cze3X-IL3x6HDQSD7wij8ARkWZksybUhrhS1W7BXEsnVZrltOWprpZG2smPcR6jA4AaZeSOY0/s16000/P1191010.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />un ramo sulla sua porta rossa. La bellezza dell’essenziale era nell’ambiente
modesto e curato, diviso da un’arcata che metteva</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDCO3aUkxAasw8-9-bxjaEoHAjb3-X3BEq7nVM8gfdVluDL_oFdSYG_6kYso_A2e1tMmMphB_mKAuFZELrSZzgIv1Kkmq3aFfoifEz8Fu8vq7pn6nvJ0ShrZC6BL9rlGdlyTTkoqX6JjxNDp3gDWRxgider3xpCXBjzQO0mDhXh5ofmDIbymCBX8SkHAA/s16000/P1191026.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">in risalto lo spazio rialzato
dell’altare, sopraelevato da alcuni gradini. I segni del tempo sfiguravano
l’affresco principale ma che</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0gQffXqMnyLxVzFdzaMa7TRquf8FXEn7L6TbhiuHNeCiO61MJa2nGJptQNTzwLAYyE4hDY-F2t_XNDj_8Dx2ec8fCnUH484nLdUJtbXZuVyPEZdM6c9HTT264ckMMFDm9DMhYlb7YMBA9h8-sM6kivjvrIyenUH7XYtASBNpnclEzOg9ESROE_RFPhM/s16000/P1191020.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">tuttavia era ancora discretamente leggibile. Una piccola acquasantiera
scavata nella roccia impreziosiva la cornice interna della finestra,</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1QTkpZlWWOoINWUTRhFwXx207vS3si5YGvEeqso1YMx9p6OH285Cq58ADHAQYqv_BqJYke9T1nDf8TZELafotVhZeqYyfINxFPq24tuAknguKlXCtTZ08iF3S6vryl_SmZMenlj8cpfcd2wycVWEeNgAikCm6cGzuqoPDSrUBauplZiIlxB8fCtmrTY/s16000/P1191030.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">mentre le parole
incise, poco visibili sugli intonaci esterni, si stavano perdendo. Non c’erano più i riti
di culto legati alla mietitura, si erano</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1E2X2dYwfY-KW33qs-_HOZIUCoI0-m34kgFYIX6MfX4QPOQfQtqQOPMcEGi7f0nbwcuynwgZlhUs4hiBnOv9OUdUV4lyKyxzL-CWss4zjDBudqiqdj4-vgCtz84f3-xg14Zn6OIQV3b6zV1i-lj3255hBx93qFD4s1A5A0ZvVOzgtZ6rDjzuV6EKOzM/s16000/P1191023.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">affievolite le preghiere alla provvidenza,
erano cambiate le usanze dei tempi passati. C’era la memoria e le sue
testimonianze,</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSLmcSmm4LasR3kPkOzqPJzs-tNi5YkDJjBTJ9_dzPAOpkj8QCPoSH2Dg4J-Tt17S20MP9F6H46G8TgDPfeK5CBKgvMoUwKFhuLb242cZlVWwbjm-PKb7liyv486NRVaTiU2xb3ruK_GhMY2Lm6a55BnJLAOFApb3lqK5ngj-ObZUkr1oBDde92mHeOM/s16000/P1191032.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">la consapevolezza dei ricordi che anche se definivano luoghi
ormai dell’</span><i style="font-family: georgia;">altrove</i><span style="font-family: georgia;"> avevano in sè
ancora tanta dolcezza. Il crinale di</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwcXBmkwjnjJr5M2olT3Xd8l3UtBIMz3BEveMlY04hg7XIP3msqaRq7XX9hXSBdnTfQ3wEkbxqmTDLuousWA2IDTr4R5IKpc-P1_O_vgKAz0K7_6b_NTk8TUVXnOkrTWpcMNLw5Yy4EVMKmu0KvzZXGy3JqQbI0FeMbKi4dA97iiuLJqnAU4oTRRc45xw/s16000/P1191029.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Monte Costeria godeva di un piacevole
affaccio panoramico, tornavamo per la mulattiera di Pilongo di Sotto, tra
maceroni e antichi resti</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNWIXdohM1n8cZjYlM7FBfOymEFCiioQ4iyVgyT_RQM2hluNW2j6BzxX-OZo32L-wrHuZbO6RXj2efB40VadPRSlMlXbHjcqqwqqtOLGXbNR178CpaRg4CpOEpwCQxFKRxAFil-tv0LZ60bxyyMYydxHevRxQiEAGIYE-dgifqAMxENgnAiEK8XPKSSk/s16000/P1191061.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">di basamenti di pietre a secco, mura divisorie dei
coltivi montani. (Per approfondimenti: "</span><i style="font-family: georgia;">La Montagna e il Sacro, riti e paesaggi religiosi</i><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtA_xmrg0h_tgAWc7_C5hOwAXgd9pINdRZWI_nrfQvb8LoRTF5IamT0vnOaOKO8PM7wZ0zL-6Oa_1qsfDddvPWbz2POzzQmGWcc0OA1-l9lnPYHc8yavifFGZsZl5tKJug4Rcih7L1eE-cA8SaLwmaS4B1ggupaeXAQCrXv5tydukSBWpgwGcm-G2oZI/s16000/P1191113.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; text-align: center;" /><i style="font-family: georgia;">in Abruzzo</i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: italic;">" di Edoardo Micati, Carsa Edizioni, 2018.)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aAjeMf8NNw_7y2AfCzsfxNzo0axvzCoe7QzQIxPeQ3EeM7UL6_5BnKqslpQYEtwP3ebfsPYXIPuv_ynALpnHtAdCxSSG4Jj8GkjEOs-3OqW5sCemIYH7GNIIpHq9G7Kb8u-igdq_2EhIrcXJZNeUrJhYQGL8CXJIIdpC67mRp4c0VG-7sF5r2krpzHg/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="975" data-original-width="1920" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-aAjeMf8NNw_7y2AfCzsfxNzo0axvzCoe7QzQIxPeQ3EeM7UL6_5BnKqslpQYEtwP3ebfsPYXIPuv_ynALpnHtAdCxSSG4Jj8GkjEOs-3OqW5sCemIYH7GNIIpHq9G7Kb8u-igdq_2EhIrcXJZNeUrJhYQGL8CXJIIdpC67mRp4c0VG-7sF5r2krpzHg/w400-h204/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-69613360853025329442024-01-14T17:00:00.003+01:002024-01-14T17:05:27.199+01:00Il Villaggio del Pastore a San Panfilo d'Ocre<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGl5qEQL5F0oB0E5KpgwYIlPg55TiadgJk6ueWtUeUUEsT8-ipbtGQKTaMzfpteBW72wUqI9Kqlih1X8sF_jTOVQbVJAv3edKL6vUofHlmyrWfYgeAftFnx688zwVwO6Gm5HVwgFnJXqoEOGyD-rJDWrYRCBUyYTWpiSwb9btLg6vC0FuoOKi4dtzzdY/s16000/P1140894.JPG" /></span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">A Sud-Ovest di San Panfilo d’Ocre vi era il Villaggio del
Pastore – o anche detto della Pastorizia – un luogo sconosciuto protetto dal
bosco</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVeF9emqIeZTN55_kjXjf03tIHGYlntTSLhx15SebBURQNcNddVvA-OQqspGCj2NtGx1SUvuzCVJfADHzhNPNJtg0Vr5tmENVdR_bqn6ugAyVbf2BE8mNE0dBV9tf2F0gh6HqUULmP8LcQdcvPdiVS5AOd_ySbOobl43w6OWcQrneGXQjcbfAYWbRIQ40/s16000/P1140875.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">e privilegiato per la visione panoramica. Cinque edifici abbandonati di
medesima conformazione si ergevano dal suolo con addosso i segni</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSACtHSS_GxMTdqSTWQY4WXAnRsDgUxol9zsael2vtmnVgK5B11CE_utUBEtt6iu19e1jylX-z63B-RznYIrk1Mj1EFzYjwlGOATA9Q0d7t-UXXqv6cnyA4PwcKyzqMEvU1CBeIreOL4zJ5qqLNbkuZTD1u8nsGT3_s96dk27Nc0WuRyudZ0TL5gWYuoo/s16000/P1140885.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">del tempo,
vennero realizzati in passato con la finalità di accogliere e selezionare gli
ovini transumanti dalla Puglia e dal Lazio.</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pGid7TF7EdmzlOTUAbu4d9B0NKhn_A7f1us3qWN-C7YSCtqq46_w7TSPLlc-wHF9CILpcu8xj1SmZZwiNfc7awiUoMzw87cCbJgN5vWghyphenhyphenaG8cxLLn30UBlDQbaS9zEI9zTllbA-gn4MwbFBrLl61dXg5wGH6TByvTcJFddQwPrMLFy2Bv0YeKUOOVA/s16000/P1140914.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">Ogni caseggiato era munito di stalla,
magazzino, fienile, silo e caseificio, ambienti ben studiati per le funzioni a
cui si rivolgeva,</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeJvIhpzKeg2Lim9k_A3e7Ekt69HsJeWWBsmRKpYD-xm6UZiZsWsU2FF5zAOC1LKtfwMR1DhnG3VsX5BD1WzL5hkyFNPRjJZm_AC3REVbaY4NGiLcYExZKHdbmWx03zskjF4RSURPT8Fq8h8uqV6Gl_MEBQev9Ov7Fb871xSRPDHLMMZUL1ezVI1YEn4/s16000/P1140899.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">che divenne anche un importante punto di riferimento del
settore. Venne abbandonato con lo scoppio della guerra, e da allora</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8IJjAtKoWxU_OkqO2ar64mFpAlqCqhkt1cqzc-OU81cwH1nwdnM7wyFS-ervVq-2KgyFjv6ucFQyh2rTyQwQaiLn_kp_2hh0Nod28JbKKO75aqlrc0wWbDCHQ5kXB-2EqVtZppyVJohIMPVCCAV6omq3QMfMVoLY_wo_N_Vf_4ihA7zO7DP2nvN4EsfI/s16000/P1140931.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">lentamente andava
incontro al suo degrado. Su un muro la scritta VINCERE omaggiava il periodo
della sua edificazione, </span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTbZhRU7FMktNyppHE8_BlE4oSZh7h7GOGHAH-tJFW2kJMzO2DzAIqxSYlGuhnpa_ueFpOF2-p0XJWbdTuqXuFjIYPrKEBpPyhqT1RZ6YIiuRkBJRKQcru3BkqysDibkRVHdLTSL8NviMIV5u7GEWwEPFZF_bUqV_WoCOaCMjkgIZ3VqOfdyZf8YaeMEE/s16000/P1140882.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">parole ormai lontane </span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">e appena leggibili, vecchia vernice
su mura ossidate.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOFZLGJ0bIBfhMY4O08TV8-Fs1AUzLUCCK2zj6acOYKgBec-CniPbMLtYP6PDCeqICh6PWIrCZSbnHxYgcxRWQ_q13jVshtAH1tJloX8Fptcf-DqLk67PVrbToodjy-qghHklPoQiG9KDl6MDpCBTXLIhUA8X6O29OAqHMhXa6iIlCfZLEoHn8SbVJ-K4/s16000/P1140918.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ID_I128fn0yBrTtWuLMuhxWP2HH3lW121lUL3be31-PHR0QhUumDzqd43Fm0ULSTmH4eMP2RiwQLjHU8vMRGLFzBvYlYrGLzRyNw966akR2Zo7ED8IoCzBg91U6l-Xy0ypIN0erNi0UNRXpPjcSpVJt4KGxYRUczA1lJiCcDQU7mQFu_8AI-o823t34/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1920" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ID_I128fn0yBrTtWuLMuhxWP2HH3lW121lUL3be31-PHR0QhUumDzqd43Fm0ULSTmH4eMP2RiwQLjHU8vMRGLFzBvYlYrGLzRyNw966akR2Zo7ED8IoCzBg91U6l-Xy0ypIN0erNi0UNRXpPjcSpVJt4KGxYRUczA1lJiCcDQU7mQFu_8AI-o823t34/w400-h201/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-2281726325753152912024-01-13T12:33:00.003+01:002024-02-14T13:00:04.273+01:00La strada "tagliata" delle Gole del Velino, tratti di antica Salaria<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQo1AN5y79nlrHclUkqLkQTiPkJzoicUypDwgdkSg2R9pugXoI13qh7XdA5Gf0It_6hFWVBjEYT1wm0VBSwVxo0BKn_PlQ7zFwNvOSaOlY8Ks5D-YCR4WhOft2Q1pqWik8C7QqnIhSgh-bS0enst2NnCfLTrzbQnZEJb64Qr08sGwECXND6PSZ_8QjOI/s16000/IMG_5148.JPG" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;">L’antica Salaria svelava a tratti gli ingegnosi lavori del
passato </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">che</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DCnOBFLosK0L_l84rQBVgjH-M2paviIcYV3ze2sU1HoVrMa7tjnSAAHgKQkZ-oaMh9_QPIeCr8IOPPeWC8tuoKvzjzW_fhw6AxDjxKQ60jOV_tW-gA3-9tHPzySBWoOjC8R2cn-qJ_Dbb6gxsmHSqLLjLuuj0O-VoEQeVqeeEy6Ubngkoubhyvz2RjE/s16000/IMG_5138.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">i Romani avevano compiuto per attraversare le impervie </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Gole del</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisVLKRL2dsqG71h4EAuW8-1ZfQjxCsUJbWYPFrH4h1cFWvYpzsYLpDMow-LLX-UxBJ2OC1mKyHWUG5ueaTxrG9xt7bqZRm9A_q8fyoRGFl8EzLeKrET2kbakTSA8Wgt9TDUJqWOUBaToL9ZeVzUjr93iMTeBeVshjYloIji-e_E0zwXUlCJgG3BdbVAJg/s16000/IMG_5141.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Velino. Tra grandi tagliate di roccia, maestose mura </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">di sostegno</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4k16VBgbBAAa5djolWF40bNdYs-fX2P7jJm6ih6R59qjBwKSd7sTM1AHC3YfVC8EVQxXID46ZZPYXF95ZMF3b4bwZsaUTEFKvAMramSza3EsHeuqm7TqTbKfusiFqlfGphCmaL-nuLO6WlegYpGTEGuXDJmN3A5Ozy4sCDl14KaFBJ8KN75rIRY48ec0/s16000/IMG_5143.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">poligonali e un
possente miglio miliare, la mente </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">correva nel</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjde2EEUOOemcJEcaxErDVn6n8VSn-R9qVqAzpAGMu6TdqW4NApX2r5yTXdcUW2csZ96lwsgyd6i91FWCZYJFV_fvaQsSWCQq57Grl8RjH0Uxo0eK7tdH8bUZ2eBsT0b3MKBpGthMvNl9rPL3MkQKkrApNoacK0_wKU1wFZKVZBBDyeA7xuEzSmZZ-_iL0/s16000/IMG_5146.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">passato pronta ad immaginare la
suggestione di </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">quei luoghi.</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPTp9nf6pXTJ98UlelflJpGAwm2QYXJbAf3EU70NaVkanDI_w0lh4OfMdcW-oHpC4yfFQ3CwA3ij-bou9DdTD2TAdO5AhtJhhfd_HjWH1Kk62E6YGqYURj14-8FJT2elaBYf2nuMd9FRDZwF9Jkun-R6gh3M6EWU5Tyk3YIcG6BydXzyW9fD5B8tT75dY/s16000/IMG_5150.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">La bellezza della natura si era rimpossessata delle </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">vie abbandonate,</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyizzHfcB2Vhl501ncFqPLKPS0WMr7C9_bsooUDtyM8vmmDFwdTGt51hQXEjVHX3mZJ6yg90uap_gRTo6ERUsW3o-Vi6l0PKulbfNgxOQe8oI-_EkCBzLN7vVbiHjqTVrioyEB0NHwr_R_achD6Xzzgmgj6fpbmF08xfvppR6R_-Q8nzPpq8Xc75TYKE8/s16000/IMG_5159.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">lasciando sentieri sul ciglio dei boschi a ridosso </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">del Fiume
Velino.</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhYmd6oRkAIWdWOvtFUxV4EOw3WMfX1PQaE2wWNJzhSfmZydnHJYb00_bPieYaLrwMD7_XOYixp7K95Yu7ld1jLysmMW6LSwvlUHaz0Bdqr0xTIyAH4EJcoXlqBO4fB2A7nqs_M8hhBYtJLQFPWimX5FW79N88JqR-JVBtvCK_X6hR-7iNhhD3OsRiiE/s16000/IMG_5160.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><i>Interessanti informazioni sono riportate in <a href="https://www.altavalledelvelino.com/archeologiaposta/353-salaria-i-resti-nellalta-valle-del-velino.html" target="_blank">questa pagina</a> del sito altavalledelvelino.com.</i></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-33951959397033717352024-01-13T09:57:00.000+01:002024-02-14T13:00:23.239+01:00Rovine del Convento di San Rocco da Lugnano e Coccodrillo<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCvIPC9oVMkgKYNmJjRvUElKcQK88qRuawGeTloUng3JRUMEdI8-TAZ4Lzu67ljfMWguSYaUZgtbVwfhoZ_s_MazBUqkxvst3ata5435gjaYt0yVScdDCbbpXthkWInH9pVuH00MyHeBM8I45uGdy6khdbOPl-Zl5jRQ5e9AiSw5jQT0Va6PADxytj7U/s16000/P1130761.JPG" /></i><i style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">Prole gigantea
Lugnanum nobile dicor non temet hostiles gens animosa minas</i><span style="text-align: justify;">, parole che
raccontavano un passato importante</span></span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulpVXdmDU4eFn_-5Ud5apxqw3KcGCOODcrUkgOw03UIPoWmMWJhXpmDHz6XeVlZPspFtJODWnLVKvCaoDqzg7eRyJmAjKzrXMkN9s3SZmwI3BtB1DxRKoSWoduN1TnfrHi-3Vp9epHvF0F_14IRE5QUG1e9G_XtzqsBGfYv30olc7LgtUaFo1LTh4Q1E/s16000/P1130772.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">tracciato nella memoria, ma che nel presente
davano poche informazioni. Del Convento di San Rocco rimaneva soltanto la</span> <img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7MzfVDcN0lofD9jBEOY0cCZgMBycOZ_HNytiCB2Ug_v0wlD4tIQ1vHo1YgrjO3ayvNw3hX_uZuLhc0-3fr1dr5qivT_TREXWzHIqXR7bu-I5wrexxWbVX5U_f1uYqyUESDoDLQo2vQhIpk0S2oi5pFbyvhuRRZz8m8nS3eQgw3DAyDp7HHekSVnfHDU/s16000/P1130741.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">solenne testimonianza del valore che un tempo ricopriva, con mura maestose
ancora erette su importanti terrazzamenti, con sentieri</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhenYRjNaOARJ-plGIMLrPhrGWz7qyIbmXavyTXLRTDXL7C1R_XiTrUQEuZwvnXxHk8WjowZrpH28y5fW5VP0a8B1UopB4Qvn6cmJmeExQOHLah71cNDv6KPuwphCISDjbsGutBpEFA_twkI29UCLr9WxLDYyF9U0u5TkZgT968d5KrI_yTMiXjMFdfxc/s16000/P1130669.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />lastricati magistralmente
da pietre, cercando di sfruttare ogni spazio di quel luogo strapiombante reso
così agevole, con persino una grotta</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeCjWJg3dOsWfYLaxrtLJUNbN23NwiG_dTBMa1mX8NowVpHIjGzbxB80rg83zZcc1z2vUukdNoZ7CaKQgV1W6gzPJh99y9Q7RkJwdm8ZBnln9ncJW_gAljBRhifitCtRow_-ak7Y6Tfrl85SqTQmZCo6HwONVfqYoNnzSya-G95jjXfcM0_b7huwr5m20/s16000/P1130695.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">antropizzata, riparo accomodato da mura
interne. La bellezza era in tutto questo ricordo di solennità che dominava la
valle ed ammirava</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_w4v_wnnikJAThz_ZS8ACpMzktO4WaZiwRFDoMGk9zETDs6tgLj4rCK6OczaaaVrIcR8BfsrAeYagCvNp2I43JLMLyRXjWnyS9V18ZPDKkuPep0xwk7XrpjeuMl_z5DbHAZ6U881vzkYJL7Ko1HFHef9p9RHab3ZvHNFegBDm6CY9F2Nt743t0OzucPs/s16000/P1130757.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">dall’alto il piccolo paese di Lugnano. Il sole e la
temperatura mite ci illudevano alla primavera, con gemme ingrossate sugli
alberi e alcuni</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZvivWSbMxUCly9YzbA4WB7lMfEWMC38NrYoRDSk4X8WNrnHrGg75X5HUM_2PhjDd9FCpcd_wzajNhV6GkeUlKzFF33f_Tp57x1_3RACiYrNd6HRORaq24evgnfULhv0-qj3pgGQUZZUc0ZOho-LjBpMeqprEF4Av_6U10wKr5TVV5Z0OJT3l7eWiRhM/s16000/P1130776.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">canti di uccelli. La piccola Madonna del Fiore era custodita
nella Chiesa di Santa Maria in Categne.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2BSJSWLvxsouM35KQgSHKmf6sXGIXMpzVBF2-EB-e1Il3NwiXn6s7BxRfSaASykztiS3XX-l8fvH2N79xqgCXryZF6I4g4kPoJRw66mShvf07MgV8Yl83QyxT_udl-peWKlMKmkIuUv_jKGMhQmIrkgbylx5fkEm9uHgoan9hRQp1k5vLX7rcI6zYMo/s16000/P1130790.jpg" style="text-align: center;" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGZl_p0QHcQTvhg-Eafq8WhIXSbCrOYPQu8Giv5T4q4J8xCxEtr_ehSdkWdQdNVKN1c95B8flH1AoH7jH_hb1bppPtBplqtcitPZL6qKvWNi3xZ7PQWy_f0WhDJ6zVvR8MPlpaMldYBLncpPacvbIz4QCLOLBsvECAA25AG0aF7R7I9Dcl3FEf3lKmHs/s1920/Senza%20titolo-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="969" data-original-width="1920" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGZl_p0QHcQTvhg-Eafq8WhIXSbCrOYPQu8Giv5T4q4J8xCxEtr_ehSdkWdQdNVKN1c95B8flH1AoH7jH_hb1bppPtBplqtcitPZL6qKvWNi3xZ7PQWy_f0WhDJ6zVvR8MPlpaMldYBLncpPacvbIz4QCLOLBsvECAA25AG0aF7R7I9Dcl3FEf3lKmHs/w400-h203/Senza%20titolo-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-3191099993980137172024-01-03T09:21:00.037+01:002024-01-11T10:06:12.536+01:00Nel bianco tra Toblach, Obertilliach e Anterselva<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi148Sn7lbew0wmt-uuTPH0S-EWXESWRPsago4vKKheI_YPijX3CWDUVcRIuuTnbE-X7YU9Oq05nV3R03pexbEQ13QOvxCkNgT9P8EJQMJkbX_on90rZs_n1ZpVUgB-ZKmRPSlhz-0GRqiKyoh0FST0IL7WF7hMhz6xiTZueLezZJfItM8y27wgLtk2zM/s16000/IMG_4846.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Nel bianco della neve, nell’ombra dei boschi azzurri, su
manti</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU85kmI0Mcfdc4cBgpRlWUsW86rZfaAiNTY-VQ9MasONngmj4HDwOU7ZPdgOrIvv3o4DuThVHE7NivZ197wKRJl_KQjQXEZP7fd3DDsBB83WfG6j4Pa1wvvVaM8qi_eK4qFsBLu7VsC9HO5Eu4I-EPWrKsvctrn5UUkenJx8tvI12-Bpb22A15lKFd2Jk/s16000/IMG_4882.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />immacolati di silenzio e bellezza, dove il candore addolciva qualsiasi<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkWW3hwHVmxCoBhkimhpGG3PxlfYEwc2vsSMGDHu9swwNCrViLPgm-b13EFadXfnHMoKU9-VAptIuOxUT_jQVQPTSwSmrCig5MfcQ6X44pdTkg9G5obFHUSRF67loSszCDS-QtYiRdkGuRtERvfYjwl_jyu_iRWcmlu3_MgMArFfxCJ0O-YgZT8wHmSY/s16000/IMG_4854.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />conformazione. Laghi e fiumi svelavano superfici riflettenti il cielo che<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeb5bQoCwJyEJis6Zwq9jGwTVTnyzSTVPxV-OgjBl7VfduK28u6xTpLo_CiNoHgdUzp-gTqvDId-DuCtxmzyb3wQlsk2zuWvdmzVFjQQcmPGcPyzJJiC33wTazVJckCz4EYoQZWBmc84ykj89eU3WSKSMnUMaUgUFc6m32k-SrqoJJVAkSc3Vd_7CN5IQ/s16000/IMG_4852.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />si
perdevano all’imbrunire, tra nebbie vaporose che a mano a mano<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnM0FyUuA8W13K6s50HqPplIOUrmN3-ljGQxYPAhX9fydG2ur9W6Mj7rrXOrrSPTxHEGUYr7MQL5_JKAMVO8kvnEWrjmK71vqVv4-6RVltu8cRVfrgyHCilF8vmi9m0l591gI-wq5ckGehLMwtZ63sJQOIraQ3VZBJfkme1sMZNYdcCdHsxmL8R2DGnTI/s16000/IMG_4855.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />offuscavano gli
orizzonti. Un suono dolce fluiva tra i rivoli, mentre gli<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkylNgNFMlVSi4TxZaHSCvYXbb7SMubIA2LSYRSvlI40n-UqBLRXkJ04KJ3g5FSkXITKMdaKzFHzf3T1Cc6hZx0mWh-cTUsXCkkTsN5Vq1xjTu0l-C5vk5DlM2Fr1PFuMzSNmF1atJsqewJ_z6ziNUCImEmQNyl48HUrYj7lT7FlFujGc6QfBZ6z5pig8/s16000/IMG_4890.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />alberi si facevano
carico di riflessi argentei. Le montagne intorno<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH36_zLfio6nEVtgaCx5rbE2YkFO16q7_zlZUG78puGG8DTbLAvS-VpYR7skiPTSoc8yQjSG6KkuRn_tDFxEXhlN8fA1ZRMlOQp-Q2OiXXwkMCpuHbS-oNoS6d7qoCUNAcNO9C1VG39WgJzq6KpGNOXNPARbua2xf3sxyvSIZH7y_eJgIrE4YQcj92ob8/s16000/IMG_4957.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />svettavano verticalmente
lasciandoci raccolti nelle valli, l’inverno qui<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIXsPPWqfd5z-zSBLC0f7ZNAEvdJg_coca4KzMWywN1D1u94ahT5fIZyHULMZpupaXITWcc3DxBJlReGp-Oc2S411f6Pg1EAFQaEzj9ZJHhwyzKZpXgoAiMZLNuxyIn93UoArqzrPNgas2Ous6dDv9FsrlfXdNvcAOJ24_fW1qbw7iYj5hg9qhbUdz7Y/s16000/IMG_4961.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />era giunto e ci raccontava le
sue forme. Tutto era a riposo sotto una<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQO1S4M9S5Z9qp3rO4vmY8oA6RXV0YWYO_j5mayTr6_ZgowKp6p85NW-vao4aLUlXT_E6u7pV_gYC2gXjtiG8Ifl5Ij7xCOtJ948qPiUduC0aF7DCtcJOZLie75Nu0XOIkFhBeNj-dst7tcUQ5QjuXBD4nr3r1M7WY7JWDvZ09NyccXalflNtU5XZkCM/s16000/IMG_4971.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />grande coperta bianca.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgObGX7_vy-3iyetXQBIgPxYkyebB6MBy3OG3_27pxtCKRfo9hPNTkpRmVdShlA1aGTkTUlvYYqMBxaViFQqV7TdwpBKO7F1AvTti5Mbf7RyTMdbpcvjxIOejXFoDL3Q3H3Rpy-VVHNCQ-oc369QNg3tpOEDlMsyIAEF-G2jMm62JVPQlp3INq6kDcKwrk/s400/IMG_4986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgObGX7_vy-3iyetXQBIgPxYkyebB6MBy3OG3_27pxtCKRfo9hPNTkpRmVdShlA1aGTkTUlvYYqMBxaViFQqV7TdwpBKO7F1AvTti5Mbf7RyTMdbpcvjxIOejXFoDL3Q3H3Rpy-VVHNCQ-oc369QNg3tpOEDlMsyIAEF-G2jMm62JVPQlp3INq6kDcKwrk/s16000/IMG_4986.JPG" /></a></div><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-45427188127084291672024-01-01T07:33:00.041+01:002024-01-11T08:37:42.943+01:00Il Piano delle Cupelle, da Vigliano a Scoppito alla ricerca del Grottone<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEloO52ImWr6EBD8g_VviprlXqYgbMDyndVR0L_waQ5fHuuc5MFupM-rEinIaX9sS_jh-tBGI0EZszIKpwB5R87maPxhy8nmkLnb3kkZhAVDWNf1ix4zXcPnwD8mx0yCrnYx-JFe1apl4XkJ11Z0ise04dcOa2pkLOtZLUxNr54MvGSpkSJGHFslVOFBo/s16000/P1010598.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Sul Piano delle Cupelle seguivamo antichi sentieri alla
ricerca del leggendario Grottone, partendo da Vigliano - l’antica </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Fisternae</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> dei</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitDslmAiLzr0etaqnRT_4F3AiJuvMV5N1-sTMhEp6ZrGAzfZ6dj9mcBzkxx4qx13FqpTJmeW4ZA_6ILC5PNvc6A8Uwxmw5adw99VSLNgYk-LjT8TX7I9RRx-0vLEb7_RW4P90FYp2abcteaMMfIXqP3F3v00KaV9DP4b9hpYJnuLC56RbQ7yZhIPyGUu8/s16000/P1010602.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Romani - risalivamo la
montagna per il valico di Monte Sant’Angelo. Già altre volte l’avevamo cercato,
seguendo indicazioni di coordinate<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOVea7ss7tcokkTIVJcxGf99HNm29FL-9XLtg_tpD6OMhK4JFNEUSf6lOTJocGGxlFMq0lr6LintFljRyGcIvs8wwsoIpI1RUkPvgED6c20QJ3eN0F8hBLYqtM94f7b6IGueCa_jp1B_kCihuit1rOQbAEvaWqLt5V1weOz5QJDL1Jk6B26I-LkmaTVk/s16000/P1010604.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />rivelatesi poi inesatte, non trovando
riscontro effettivo nel territorio, alcuni lo indicavano a quota 1150 metri,
altri a 1078, ne era testificata<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV13IeDyVsn9POPmqamkfUeoqGgLeC2bcJnYu3cJGbN23fjdshTTrQ-4KR4Jp2WZGwekA1sqr3h6wP5UeVp_vpOQ9XS6NfkZ74rFBAPCYHJhJYtNBcCFgxEWaZDDne4R6aSKZMtI7HZ_0jZaZf2tflTBr1iaubYpvRFxxoz5jCmirnixBB6LesWzYsy68/s16000/P1010609.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />la presenza sulle mappe ma di fatto nessuno l’aveva
mai trovato e condiviso l’effettiva esistenza. Rimaneva però la straordinaria
bellezza<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3FreVogf9qlBkeJ1_80Rh5NroEeGNpThomecaLcdWlhzMXxqz1tsAiRORFkmYBXOO1bOn-toWLmt-6mkufIhVJmZ_5iRryT-8ww-AxBZvvuFfBzJOng9T31Mkpfb9luhK8rskadOCv9sORoJcuSvFHgF8lArSliTzPxCevBK6a0UNQ_gXSHAUJGGiE7U/s16000/P1010624.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />del territorio, che così poco frequentato aveva un fascino unico. Tra
il fosso boscoso rivestito di muschi e i prati sommitali prendeva forma<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-NZJlS9M3PnG0D9lkppwvjStKRwU2ZpQI23Cp6OJcabYdKdrbC82_pcsrM7TVdngyZ80AWDtkhdEW4sfNcbr3pn4AYiP73cXc1s_ey5PYZqhDrRz_6S6G8N38EvpY9CiKamd0tnNiizZCy2wwTnl5biIJraS3CqTvOwrsBg_J4yYnohsaeyjcfvNPmHU/s16000/P1010633.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />il
sentiero che in passato aveva visto molta più frequentazione, ne davano
testimonianza le pietre ordinate dalla mano dell’uomo,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUu_YGywq901cvq4K3Yxzq4Cy3aLzbfp-DZpCniQxANelbIsSAAnEcujaZx_J_TeWp2b8LLngDz7XiiO_R7c926o8SyvmqxTgp5FxzlZ95mbIv2H6GzxjejcWuPyO7i-otcR9Nbg9SKYXJ0bFE8KTMtMSzz3aV1RFE-ctkpePqTjErfj8EwW1n9PUGxE/s16000/P1010651.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />le tante muraglie che
cingevano probabili possedimenti. Sul valico un gruppo di cavalli stazionava
nella quiete, guardandoci incuriositi<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2XbODDW9aRzhDw_zzxzrJw-tExgO-mkgqeh5Vtaywf6M1cmCOe__T-6h4Htf7QV1Yxqnt4BNiacjvNfRjG2rGB3Udb53Fru1tdeOrRnHXprj7_mqwwbmliKoTxm4Q2_fS98Gv9rRLUIpOnm4cb5-ZkLoKBhzAWbmrOhP6RTD-7EblW4SSrUIhI6ZscI/s16000/P1010652.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />alla ricerca del sale. La bellezza dei
sentieri semplici era come un augurio sereno per il nuovo anno appena iniziato.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZRLHTAnuzQfm3RpdgT8M2q9Oxdr-kV1jC2Ec9wYKgIcpSwHPS68Rxj_J2_mG95gGcvs3pFz9BNmSOgQtmxE3KOsegPXzGYhsL5aSRgt_pvzwjZ1yq5px_HMf8p_WtbuiIdIAILFDs3_O1mkuLsUH2Ll6ziT4Cs4pdCDkIR7KYqOc7xe_bkpYWYYTo7nQ/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="969" data-original-width="1920" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZRLHTAnuzQfm3RpdgT8M2q9Oxdr-kV1jC2Ec9wYKgIcpSwHPS68Rxj_J2_mG95gGcvs3pFz9BNmSOgQtmxE3KOsegPXzGYhsL5aSRgt_pvzwjZ1yq5px_HMf8p_WtbuiIdIAILFDs3_O1mkuLsUH2Ll6ziT4Cs4pdCDkIR7KYqOc7xe_bkpYWYYTo7nQ/w400-h202/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-78401287011598889992023-12-31T09:28:00.042+01:002024-01-01T10:13:33.668+01:00A Fonteavignone Le Pietre Raccontano<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivneQ10c-Kv5e8BooYeLbMclO12H_US-oOlddWK0nuWKo80OaVdNirUQLl9Kwx8-D3B7w35q4CB51pWU80-It7qSPJalzqvikVD64B_VKql3f6ejq_O9DUThyphenhyphenogk6KX4MCvvxiajKWfNaSwXMjkKok_mloPFEpYZiPiW4K_3f_excFJBDd7wqnJRvaZIg/s16000/PC310447.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">A Fontavignone le pietre ci raccontavano la memoria del
passato, da </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Pietra Pezzuta</i><span style="text-align: justify;">, al </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Pugno</i><span style="text-align: justify;">, all’</span><i style="text-align: justify;">Acquario</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> e alla </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Seggetta</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> ogni roccia</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfuzXFQ0YwVxSZEgYL8mmoDuLJn60EDkpJ_pxeBno9N5loxu0PHvlSbOLGMuqjvv1CU7CICADG7R-DiQHbUBS2O78-iYuiAjt10UVOjqJwTyl2Bk4knVUey3qIJJEOQf_pqjRRZ3ldRxpl215bltbNe54Cu1qtpnTGSfmtOVh9fRmq6keGpw20isLVdE/s16000/PC310458.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />si vestiva di suggestione. Conoscevamo i luoghi che un tempo erano stati il
riparo dei soldati in fuga dai tedeschi, durante Seconda Guerra<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHTMWGYucNFYcNe0iXSbW5lT66xGkEEQ3Z-mIENW8R3vNk5OEE_tWrYwz_yJVyZz0jBZF2ufS-zBnxvpuX_0ERhqo3dx0NpcJSY-_WOSiHxOQr0PJhg3XTwXDcuZ41kdMPJX__aHqUS4_2ogLWf3fRuqvtQdsWJRXXptYf7T3M53h5mtwlGMq7UpiFIaI/s16000/PC310468.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Mondiale. Un
americano, un inglese, un cecoslovacco ed un tenente medico sudafricano avevano
trovato rifugio nel fitto della vegetazione,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQ8Dw4Dr_mW0EIeNZTvNuYK1p-trtJYr7Q0ichvKOk4H7SMvvTUlWGaaWpPUTWjQkRYKGv8F9boukH6D1lkYFpZhAj9KvLr-O57tEKvZquePKY2FIB6TlORNpcrGC5oFDJnui-00OcXKLiZFNMpmIjAevoFQcyv1OCxBS1fHNXh7b5OjPLSDgm5RcJUA/s16000/PC310480.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />nascosti in grotte e ripari
naturali, ricoveri di fortuna che grazie alla protezione e l’aiuto dei
Fontanari gli avevano garantito la salvezza.<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMuUPbthmPfXA1qFxMNo8_Wrdt1hW75nxkwraodyacHYyVcD7ra8xszLVe8RGeWeaMYBH6EB6ogqi51jYnITH4-kr3dAAiJdTSOuPgYqggVRVg_KEVqrX6lX1JLy455WKjadvawG7Z8gFSL8-SH220QDh7SIlXtsHePJSKGj8atVI7xSW7N7Df_hTMcM8/s16000/PC310540.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Antiche strade e mulattiere si
snodavano nel bosco, spesso accostate a muraglie di eccellente fattura, che
nonostante lo scorrere del<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6FqEmgtL0RhJu0BL-IkJ_ZtIpYeiEJeRmPGjWupxU55bOVWZYz9RsXUaC_ndjGsV1Ql-qeU9FzhqBAP4XKKCcQH6gv5bgWcWUMjYw34ilI1t-6wDlqZkhohVm9GsMrcLWzlx3ysx6_kuQV4sUyOa6QH7Y4XW34_MnSEaX-obcPMlSiezAFMDy-cjVJQ/s16000/PC310557.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />tempo mantenevano ancora le conformazioni. L’ultimo
giorno dell’anno ci accoglieva nella bellezza luminosa della natura, dal punto<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwvtrShAqPPliJNZ8mLnPyBz4wNfPdLmLb39zeEBbhNGjMVrPgQYkds0WNLrHc59VfT5crKAoylJPMVasq8p03DYm_QQkww-gBv5DjfFJM7g5fXmmrmkOnaR3p4PZHsjB7MYUZi1iY3-sSF4V3ImWgLFbO9CFXSFiPffuzk7lFxVWISWsFPLkHmk6s8CA/s16000/542426da-0be9-4cab-9d62-5bed1b27a62f%20(1).jpg" style="text-align: center;" />panoramico del <i>Miratore </i>un letto di nuvole inondava la Valle dell’Aterno, lasciando
ai nostri occhi il dono della contemplazione.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedMhOHqUc_-2jPc_scyMvCb3jwQDynvtDa-LAegC7kYRohub6_Sk54M7XE1wk3OHDNDAPrD5IuNNapjPZQJovi2p9Z9GYvc7M9o8nT4HsTeIniUkvb7rLanM62msqMtRvYKwggeLhinpcmXJwvM0IPGchvByTIor9NNzMJJlj2SYH8uE7u8tAg_xh_lo/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1920" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedMhOHqUc_-2jPc_scyMvCb3jwQDynvtDa-LAegC7kYRohub6_Sk54M7XE1wk3OHDNDAPrD5IuNNapjPZQJovi2p9Z9GYvc7M9o8nT4HsTeIniUkvb7rLanM62msqMtRvYKwggeLhinpcmXJwvM0IPGchvByTIor9NNzMJJlj2SYH8uE7u8tAg_xh_lo/w400-h201/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-87010801324771363722023-12-09T15:17:00.007+01:002023-12-26T14:39:39.149+01:00Il Bosco del Tre Frati nella Riserva Regionale Guardiaregia Campochiaro<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVUAwqYbN-5Q1djH7PCIpYlGFhKAZFLHcuQhxKXiWCT7ZxECQYEQUKC7beK_VZcrrSO4en7pUfzvjEq3U0NUE3QcqDsIP-Vhpkf4G9OdE39yzDo55_DkK4MLjEWZXVKk8guAOcehC6u4FMx3TLenUkBxbPFI8owuNnIxThFgPnSse9Bz9qupGpmvQ0yY/s16000/PC090322.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Il rumore dell’acqua della Cascata di San Nicola
riecheggiava da parte a parte lungo la Forra del Quirino, ne percepivamo la
presenza</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSjeqHySMtywcyrD-SccGNdyrn1hwU6REViF87llrk-e0Vq8HTVFN4CrkfvQdK66LF8U5KlBdkfhTZrcqKxyoyqumrjaVq1Ta6QpVrbM91xfCw4UcWDUq0h0Yzgld5VPjU3W2LJnAPY_CDHTVyYY6Ua-VfqhHVWOx9HBTmEudPQfBQoYaftDaab7J_pM/s16000/PC090337.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />onnipresente, affacciandoci dall’abitato di Guardiaregia. Un sentiero
naturalistico rimarcava in sicurezza antiche strade e mulattiere,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZKULxqTI7SSLkCGLzGqq9G9djR_7UR3ZO7TIo5ASGJRo0VhoZMwymbz0YwBHs2ZHHpnSeaI64OZgopOeFvrynkDUnS29NETeJt2hEl9i4LcBjDYr0p9e0O0HPlqO51VcbSL-yavNVKvMGciAoD1bvmipHk3R6uzX2KWnvdZKb6MNbQHA4R_yrKDAormk/s16000/PC090374.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />lo seguivamo
immergendoci nella quiete di quei luoghi solitari. Eravamo nell’Oasi WWF Riserva
Regionale Guardiaregia Campochiaro,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqA3ddTDU_qFvRsBfECK3vKJI1-iUmMQFZaUIH3ygemqpmhBiswsESW1lv_YDbIEUOTDElrhNCv_Mvkq0MVWICtNlm6VFdJsr-yvVuYePJooc67HaSUssS3alFwRbpTLk_Z74AWJBy9I5h1O5sBNFsPOZtL8rD3DYv88t12GeBzDiQBlnzVqdgHFc_Gzw/s16000/PC090375.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />sulle montagne del Matese Molisano, immersi
ancora in una visione di autunno. Antiche leggende animavano l’immaginazione
dei boschi,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxrL9UMIeDXQL6Ltr5ZLpXRpoS48pOPYONx33GYJgiVdwy7qwUgzx6d6dQFs6iaSuL4JSLrLo8rqJdjB4hVGk9zRGBkhA_qFZ5-F1OCXIUB33aJNvqr6WgZvOkY1rYeVRZpvEd_akB6lSUiF6WOl3KJ1ABFnXcQa2M30ftyITTuPbmJuskghg7Yy_gVHA/s16000/PC090379.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />storie di briganti, ingiustizie, punizioni e strategie, facevano
eco al silenzio introspettivo dei nostri pensieri. I Tre Frati svettavano<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFflAdEfS3SqFzPys1lUQYqygsl8ZL3uuLq4pIdk8reOpr-TK-YFpioBapzo6vnsJooehyD005pAqCJvUIXbgoiKy6RPenQweoLjf8pQObjjRu1uwWu8mCRUN2SO1hOfLhQ1M-v0Jqd0VcKjBN-L65kWGrbWx55eBXhgv3a6Hyhyphenhyphenwohh1nqQViicXrEU/s16000/PC090385.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />magnifici nel bosco a ridosso di una delle strade per Benevento, chissà quanti
racconti di streghe leggendarie si erano perduti qui, sotto<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhahOsGHuf8o59sLECBGyjm3OBLWHI3dl4iN9-eGocWMJIrULIToTSAhEDOs5gmRHcmfcu1d4VdGLzPDdqTOmk2V1VZl4QYw4uTlCz-xbHHXIhPoA_GIJTzORkruc4rrrCG1bS37yDkIB_nUh3SnhUEoEvaMIJocsWfxJ8xtasIfzDLItRihXXqqDwVeFA/s16000/PC090399.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />questi faggi, nelle
notti dei tempi passati.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUz59ARn5tOSoJcI23WiXhaFZ89KuWy0CSPsuv5RWTthXp36_TEC00edBJ6cZ3STQVueYUo63h4IIe34ziDbdvo9MwihaS0zUUByLfL1ZLXKXan21qFoXksfai85n7AMWMwf6GiKIj-Zs8nnCx5jG-BRh0rxBD3l647fNYrqaWKkzGpBF_Lj_K2qolhJ8/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="969" data-original-width="1920" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUz59ARn5tOSoJcI23WiXhaFZ89KuWy0CSPsuv5RWTthXp36_TEC00edBJ6cZ3STQVueYUo63h4IIe34ziDbdvo9MwihaS0zUUByLfL1ZLXKXan21qFoXksfai85n7AMWMwf6GiKIj-Zs8nnCx5jG-BRh0rxBD3l647fNYrqaWKkzGpBF_Lj_K2qolhJ8/w400-h203/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-2874309154700450732023-12-03T11:00:00.050+01:002023-12-26T14:52:45.827+01:00Casa Balla<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJGeuT6qTMIYFdsz-E9PtPPkze3BAzSEHPTBYUTk3xQlqseGUcbI7PtNLO-QngknwHkOCEOtNKEJmKtm2p8gtlk6nXq2rBfyv1CNDROn26BzCkMjLYVC7-xLICRU-7AN80vH33Tk06IzlqtIuxAdCjMVM6FTMcGRrbt2loSbYPbuLzf9mZMhyphenhyphenIbv5S00/s16000/IMG_4416.JPG" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;">A Roma, al quarto piano di via Oslavia 39b, la casa di
Giacomo Balla ci apriva le sue porte lasciandosi indagare. Si percepiva ancora
l’umore</span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitf8PK4O2x3YlqBJIAN3VIoq3b3QrpadMy1_S6Jr2qCBSzfgP0mzuiSX-rCTv5sIOaVlrSPoDGZ_qsuwNK-lTxI_MQpnmeQ75ti2BvDUyCLLOgImTqFj5uTB4jSaqCepb_uAJV-HtbvY_G5mvT4EP1qGLnZN9_wcRXwSCK-MWnQqo9RZmCR6lYM1IHOyw/s16000/IMG_4446.JPG" />dell’artista nel suo spazio, dai muri al soffitto al pavimento ogni
cosa parlava di lui e della sua visione artistica, splendore geometrico</span><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAC_sgcClVeDkAdFK6VMJUf169uHSQXcRGbdGaYgdZa7x_UhgEzit9OA74jjLiLqGmaDqDLclHhWkkwejs9-Npt96xFzN-rqRuEH_-gn0R_lQ0beOQZF6H6epkPJa0CEqdu_Y080u3Uy-xRyudT2iqzOGEmVqZ81QiQ9GnZqiOeAhwMHLhJYvsEtdnag/s16000/IMG_4419.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />futurista di una mente continuamente contemporanea. Osservavo tutti i dettagli
e ammiravo la bellezza di chi come lui aveva fatto della</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM3KyvoV-jwshreO09FNuGTxUD8InpEZYIsMRRivbLODlFtnVQFfaK5HuXxbU_cElM9zWcz_VvyqwzYGl6FAiTipaKuW1Q5SIezHWOOEjtL1evNnwFHxmPN0mVFAFMxnLiM2-A2GAoYFOHd-DCTWvVQliezIwuHX0NX73uffxoefnDesLjbD7j-QSq1O0/s16000/IMG_4408.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />propria vita un’opera
d’arte, senza mezze misure o compromessi, in una visione totalizzante di chi
davvero era centrato nella propria</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5_vl8zb1LJV1s1qB1L2RM0Z47gnCdNzXm45BNqLCIsXJGnsm0NvpwXboJW1zjIlMFcnBZmU1jA_zj_nwTq9I6lEm_rAnIdErqkoD47MHQmy7ZTywVJjPhw5rlHcIcHgvr1wwcMcrxINLNESzynt8K4jzZoFipvBMnH2KlNqesykfct6CUWJdZRVpsGs/s16000/IMG_4464.JPG" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;" />essenza, un maestro. Ogni cosa seguiva una
logica astrattiva e funzionale, ne adoravo le forme scandite dai colori, i
ritmi visivi<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7zEvYDwB1bTUszXBfH4OJ-PFiejXLo45ysII6vpp1rkkI31-D_WwHN5Gz_7lLAxGpQk8NLO-IxAnF98GFn12pcZQ5DSQ-TlKe5bd_KEhyEU-GcG5TL1fHlvcV91cVXI2EAy6uO3rzEVocKml_hqIyUM0jsuduZl-JrkPOcHROOLUhyphenhyphen5BnyAbVvhCep6Q/s16000/IMG_4452.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">armonici, ripetuti quasi in maniera musicale, proporzionati allo
spazio, equilibrati nella bellezza.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSfVoI4UJF3EUtGKuXu0hbY2PvpT11r5QueFUc7tg0hRU571i4SzPKTEX0i92EbwSg_OanV7XX1ofIDJn9yt41Rw6OmNXEOOV3hOyxiIFHbgGh728DuBpp-ZyNM2YupAgi6_I_BAZFs8qdPCcbshknRZWXrtLQvR7_Vuxl9SYpuaPZ_aIEHx6LzJQisY/s16000/IMG_4493.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /></span></div></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-78259642888517251502023-12-03T07:00:00.022+01:002023-12-26T12:43:11.270+01:00Roma bellissima la domenica mattina presto<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0YDP7F_92hTuX4RMuxvCUglTyCuFcuYNTEqz-Carb3ERUnD2t4GLbRmaMfeuCIrZlaNkMr4VY3PsuC_x4YrQ4ax8ZijBod2gsMcc5voAWYsxXlp_EyCzXP20cDbQovZrBzJmfU21jod-OrcRnLZUD2bkNZAcDrTFlVMxVXouALADs7ZviKqWcPlmPaN4/s16000/IMG_4382.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Roma bellissima la domenica mattina presto, le strade vuote
in via della Pietra, la colazione al Caffè storico di Piazza Sant’Eustachio.</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2Oh6H1JhyphenhyphenHWhHf70ItLg2n_a9GRbDDXEG4h6Lz8TykUoMlY02xH-eOewyjpg23EtCPdF1TFJUEZBFZoy16JmCdfLAwLgP4-bnbDL5vOHSSxpWqfhOmwrRulUHm7IXsm4UNx8eWUBnapJEeVuX2sgBRCVxXJtkOFX898M5kkXyrQ2KLWUi0S-bB8A4ig/s16000/IMG_4384.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />I
monumenti di pietra bianca riflettevano le vibrazioni violacee delle prime ore
di luce, il silenzio completava la bellezza di quei luoghi,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalqFSiaASsJP2FqjmRCp3siHQMlDkG7lprL_C00eKX_ftrtl_JYXS_FKdRb-UT-W1rdUjVCW1HlVb3JaQ4nnktX8stRCt3oZqUDp6gRe2OWaYVAekYJpMkxPx05Djjk5qSRve31wOKhizERvw5igiKR6MAZP87UCmvL2q-cDzXbaFb-VbnPBchErt_EM/s16000/IMG_4386.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />affollatissimi la
notte precedente, ma che ora erano soltanto nostri.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVw2HMRtttF-cMwkco8JXdlMe_FaR125alzmGxASvhFWlLJwIZ5dgJojeVzg9MxwfGiOKrHHUcNSMxyDM8MR9AHis3OKbN9bynM8kc5yet3uLmWciYeNU6IMADM3zE57QnMl1MlBt-eEVK_E9RXJxhEaE9GdDa31q9_pbcw6DbE6WRQCCXZw3OsPkaB0/s16000/IMG_4389.JPG" /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-87471937718769938282023-11-19T08:42:00.011+01:002023-12-16T09:12:48.545+01:00Lago della Duchessa, Valle di Fua, Valle della Cesa<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6vZpt9Oc-4c8kKFse0T5heBmSwm2gJiB2ldozLSIbh0o5T1co2t895cYy4G6nkeWob5wLzBSzFUV4CQhmEQBF6LU78YzE7JggymHzAEZ97yU8oHR5GyeTRoynBK_pFgYljxv2K8nqFmeSZeVOcCXv7SEHvbGyu849QRIPVQx3D_OtPhf9RLX-RhsAznY/s16000/PB190208.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Risalivamo la Valle di Fua seguendo il percorso per il Lago
della Duchessa indagando le sue ripide pareti verticali, poco visibili a causa</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrQuwbdtuJKWlFI68Z6AYI3VMcvCSSuMcRxubrXP8SClykv_n9JsdOBp2_HvJA3OK8v7-TuFcQPY6FCoByPkhqYUX_bgsCOzGpOE5CBOwqV2hvpnakqJAZklRqP7TckBR1sdFnPs9cO4rTlS9jCiq4qRG8DoS4c9CcZbtH2TN4wKkbFSn-6M10RHc5ms/s16000/PB190206.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />della vegetazione. Diverse testimonianze davano nota della presenza di un
antico cenobio posto a strapiombo, difficilmente raggiungibile<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbNp3kJXAsQtrZfQbQCtJ1LtOQSYyiy0LPlaGohyphenhyphen1xhXeO46OJ9f-piIb8eJaTiAV0XyGO-pu7NILOwj9IES3_yYCpufAuwrvKCFw0TR_M31Vm0fzRCV8baptUNxwpRc7pZw_ZNETTJJF2PXfcFarPo53sRVEmDEGH6sLgwageVriMkN0L9occJuLcgNU/s16000/PB190240.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />a causa dei
sentieri perduti. Ma la bellezza rimaneva lì, in occasione di un altro appuntamento.
Il bosco ammantato dei colori d’autunno</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFZH5qRabsczEZgrKVIInqAu1DLNl3S7PeOlt0K04U8kK2_NnZ4LmIsPxuxhs3GhN03hvnbi1PzJgnmnn8sAETs4FKPJtivZv9gcuAhhA5IQypwI7Xh9WSNlcy73hSwAPVnRegUbW3c-XFLwo-j_ucJI62dSshfI4ddYo3FB476ml4XEzs2owCjKvHV-Y/s16000/PB190308.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">esibiva la sua bellezza accompagnata
dalla pace e il silenzio di un ambiente integro e protetto. La parte sommitale prendeva
nome di </span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtieHYnsdaVb89NmrbDbcEOlwA_J6sEYXmXQtuc3cTLSj00cjhtVbszPPhUTQLTZ5kKL54o_-i-e9mD_my6pYA4zMRtRb_dPuN8S922kTqE4f4rL4tiXxX23bn65FkjMsMKk4fzVVOvR0BZgc9FpkTECXhfX4aPDTNkdN6NYm1SSpZlZWpM9O46-pR98/s16000/PB190237.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Valle del Cieco, dove poco distante, alle Caparnie, un nucleo
sporadico di cinque rifugi in muratura fungeva ancora da riparo stagionale</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7wIGidfzDS0aRw_s0s0Mlc7jfAGabbVX9CksMALYV2t_8ZsA1Yp1gTVraeWbOjF-B92PU6iVGRxSAz-y1uyZx682_c29XoAOPj-c1Tu1YfS9R8w5X66TOEiI0ljObxClURLFE3r9gmnrVszMA5QPWGMN9km8lpO6aWFZuoxHk-kqOyYaRpU6G12jyXYE/s16000/PB190257.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">per
i pastori di Santa Anatolia. Entravamo nel primo, quello dedicato a Gigi Panei,
dove il camino ancora acceso riferiva la recente presenza</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCaiXAy77qNIRIMYM3rBtuglBnwK2mx7X-N4yPQwLJZEcT3h6_WvkMWQhks2oRjL295nxFdrlzoWyJ9aY07B0vP1mWtr-wPjBdQ2uBgYLKfyzPtQIMWwlFjd24Fp5lJCcJA4eLOWjyUu3SmB9wbjLAIkyIC9s2KCkxPwR1y6eqGkxxIPP7M7Y3OtT3X0/s16000/PB190261.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">di qualcuno che vi
aveva trascorso la notte. Oltre il pianoro e gli stazzi un comodo sentiero si
snodava tra vallette e poggi erbosi fino</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUQaDUMaEqW1fqS5P4IbbxL05gqE3Eh4rkUHqUGlHXAA6kbMaJfqGxsNYRMd6ihsAzGWOXii8lzCOZF05PITgcuq0Q9pZ880OF9QxHyBMuVPJRnYpQ4xR0RiX0ILmqa07rSyL44BGPPm5NLoN9ypy6XKhaXs6TlkNsexCusXeqx8RiZhhYJkKzDev6Os/s16000/PB190262.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">a scoprirsi sul Lago della Duchessa. In
ogni stagione ne avevo contemplato la bellezza, ora era uno specchio di cielo limpido</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg583yxtUlUiPRqZVYfSh3_aXI5wwW8coqUe69WJpmTkx5LU15otbsXa78KmJgPzk0UgDu9gbU2l2WHUGmMA6RbHxc0I1hIONX6DKgRdgzX_SCaPq1hBqaKNfz_mbSHqpVMNpCffp6lmdHO-zEqG59B5haY8EPqT_qrKYF3Wz76NZReCLfbwsSoh6J_WKU/s16000/PB190284.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">che rifletteva i profili delle altre montagne, la quiete degli armenti, le
presenze di altre persone silenziose. Sulla riva, i primi ghiacci</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifTeJm2xJdFUPHsj7TSEJLhyphenhyphenG-2rM3E2zxu-ZUTQuxaLprtMRf2oN2kvn5GHVIA2A8trRGTZkoEIDSwHVxa85exIC9N4rSCiGDW38SdV5KkiqGNpM-Pg4PrH5ISsxBlwD_9f3u3CTungnW0BX5mCka2ynL3NoJEEe0AP0zSzstxmivzfS5PQ_rlmKbXeo/s16000/PB190289.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">rammentavano
la stagione e l’insolita finestra di bel tempo. Riprendevamo la via del ritorno
passando per Fonte Salomone,</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3ctAjtOCN_vLuz_Mh98bZjeSkMalAfgKBwC7Snaf04xKemh3KLmctR4PIB4ki008KwGR6SqUxtTjSCEXSYuLVABXJcPgcXzZMRITHvmkc-NXznRnQoUMKdA-TWX7S_o-aDQcjHO_HtuxQ12_N8CdpbcM6kf7XbdggXMFIY-srqikPdD7E4GjyPAM4So/s16000/PB190304.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">addentrandoci nei boschi di Valle della Cesa
dove una ripida strada ci conduceva al nostro punto di partenza.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGze2VDssNIP22RaWEEmA7q_vpdFx4d5DIpvOqLrS5L6fikFuTyKE1S2Ux_WbiTtAF13NlPrHYk6QIfP53vP5KPhsEviS3_7C6yZ84jycwOVSnHvAc_2fRP_R9kUxoJn5FS48Pai36ra7z9NICAIfMLmNOtaqYq9JFndE5BvUeITzW5N_4g-SaDjnv-w/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1920" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGze2VDssNIP22RaWEEmA7q_vpdFx4d5DIpvOqLrS5L6fikFuTyKE1S2Ux_WbiTtAF13NlPrHYk6QIfP53vP5KPhsEviS3_7C6yZ84jycwOVSnHvAc_2fRP_R9kUxoJn5FS48Pai36ra7z9NICAIfMLmNOtaqYq9JFndE5BvUeITzW5N_4g-SaDjnv-w/w400-h201/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-50141015696183244612023-11-18T17:35:00.003+01:002023-11-18T17:35:31.647+01:00I ruderi del Monastero di Sant'Angelo sopra Scoppito<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioKVVnskwqq9WPg2iNh3OtZ_eOOrpAZp-qJpCZusm0S8airdVV_p-G7OmrQTqXoF2gJ4_JQPcm7J86DJ5bIrovlYmlKIshK_Rns7IUBFOsD5DJdqL4dFjtatR3WqF4pYkr4E35_bViNEPBf0IpuS6vGc2pdnNckBst88GT0tVQ2DGTaqxyBnX5AyMCR6M/s16000/PB180187.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">La memoria del Monastero di Sant’Angelo era tutta in un probabile
stipite rinvenuto nel bosco, una pietra perfettamente squadrata</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJBQY4m3Czwqor5oFinxVTlDyi6rM_PCG9pv8Yo_NhvAtwNw1YLRSLT9u6PEHY0J_7LHQyrZPji9GoptNitOwY0z8DWplqIYWvy9OVJI47S4uGRBTAycUCQAa3UpfvrBkNoCKa5Wf01ESAMkt86qCPjxKmmhA_MQLRydUS5UVSJQ8FJiAJpgmg1LUZkA/s16000/IMG_3998.jpg" style="text-align: center;" />che differiva di
molto dai sassi circostanti. Ero da tempo alla ricerca di questo antico
edificio che secondo le indicazioni di Carlo Tobia,</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvQbj2gm4MjRQMA9p4QFN7tmx9GmF8r-R3hb7SbzR4EGuze52SikLuATQ5w3zaN8E5RIg_m1pkxmuLF3dgYFC_C0tmWOX8f8N0Yv-7h57S-SyaZQqfD4_bHsuu2b6HywPSg6mwYIPWzTjPRVPYsGUvDoTA5xYRjWiMbotAJqa2l_bf9t0T6r-G_-UMyJg/s16000/5.jpg" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">tratte da </span><i style="font-family: georgia;">I sentieri montani
della Provincia dell’Aquila n°4</i><span style="font-family: georgia;">, erano situati nei pressi della parte sommitale
dell’antica mulattiera che</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgH0nkcglPxrFT7IO9Qn2Q3BXLL3BISlx4VGX3q1jvKS5DpR-LfP7oSYIJMIJ8tlcQYEt_EBp9dEINX2kGKj1ShV5zPlKhHUs9i2KrH2kti8ES2Vifr686lVmTNnVQ58mOMb8q-IG2bLMbcDQLpps2IViwa4KOynIu5w34wmUGKta1KLGFCNOxpmNaH4/s16000/3.jpg" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">dalla cappellina della Madonna del Concone risaliva
la montagna fino al valico tra la Serra e Monte Sant’Angelo. Dopo quattro</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrmIAhw-haHOkF8KKm-6KtP8X6apjhyGu3tNw4llccNrom1LmNNb-8ZTu2CwdTq9GiUUnFj5KwH54fw9yriAYQDeZ2TbQjsdGk7fVW5kbHkfXS9nAbxroOPtZY3sxHpV1fsm_4FCNlg4mdtgUVt5cV1UTYnEPzt5cy1zoDdK1NmeDk7ZdnP_G2CmS3JL4/s16000/4.jpg" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">sopralluoghi potevo riscontrare soltanto che di quest’antico cenobio non c’era
più nulla. Un’ulteriore fonte ne stabiliva la quota a 1175 m,</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPv7xksq26JMVphXayrfANxUy0S0DCt7cTROspbhCL4hGW8LHVdf6XNCDPeFzK9m2lvsLq0QMyPWW9NN3JwtKBhmR9HNOAD__haXBwhWbUuyQAotVkgS3Iiz-hjF__wwHx2GV9DdZThxQiSVHL2dzUEJrhRqSyDv-qrmx-b22hAxFkqg7GLqbD2KOs0Y/s16000/6.jpg" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">ma in tale
corrispondenza vi era soltanto il bosco e declivi poco accoglienti per un
edificio. Alcune coordinate trovate sul web ancora</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhptGMxcd36RNx49SNu2FbFyTPDnngEn3cZhwRyApuDVvv36sAGSZzdrjoiLfA-t7iAQI7UeL-wmgFjJjv9snZ-I14ojM6oHZ7_dPID27JesWksMG_LiqfzlgYESlPflCRWz_4AX7uUUvCaldHLAL1RHLAa_NFEWlbh8XhfR4KJFHx9qgCMu8FCjAqnWaU/s16000/PB180153.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">stravolgevano la
localizzazione collocandolo addirittura sulla sommità di Monte Sant’Angelo: anche
questa indicazione è stata fuorviante</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhopTp342lH9FuzPGP8QBjEegyLE05vMrhNb-JHJyCiUNV-NvsSgz48MLIDpVEVl9q0JMU_Opgc7htS9qQTzp2rA65ReXPBnu8RpE5hpe7bcRvlk0BcZF2ZIHuw38nTqUg2fg4_rTIBbmeygwwaSxk4tzCsSc_Tfsp-onA0MvZFTTsS2ReIRiEZmEsndmo/s16000/PB180158.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">in quando sul posto non c’era nessuna corrispondenza.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheP9XhGr1Qosi9K-k0zMcJOQM630JjU7nlsbn-5WJRWxHYL6pExchas5_JvBsc1G9WukHmRhZxoNYah6CoS-K0pGjrs4VTFLrvHJUkHuR26OqvaqJG6rJNb3JKeKwCIrkzbaVAF5f1DQfCPFldtAvtEcEgsoyqg4YFV27J1O76uapmQZQnhZERbPbug3k/s1920/Senza%20titolo-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1920" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheP9XhGr1Qosi9K-k0zMcJOQM630JjU7nlsbn-5WJRWxHYL6pExchas5_JvBsc1G9WukHmRhZxoNYah6CoS-K0pGjrs4VTFLrvHJUkHuR26OqvaqJG6rJNb3JKeKwCIrkzbaVAF5f1DQfCPFldtAvtEcEgsoyqg4YFV27J1O76uapmQZQnhZERbPbug3k/w400-h201/Senza%20titolo-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-15618673510832293632023-11-17T17:12:00.003+01:002023-12-26T14:40:20.196+01:00L'Annunziata sulla Strada Statale Subequana<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXwwmXInzga-6WVz-lNLp5koqlARpY6R9QqLewK9sN5rxnjTWCa9w0b5MPInJesuBj0GgmcqlHjqzWZDoarMT5_1Y8dBWmeEipbocUvyM1bzgTYG_kMb76_MG-AxnTMa1IBshsEtM9Fw54pach0I2ZDG0Ca0MvnY7GFXsalDSdIOlsiBqHMvSdeyLpOQ/s16000/IMG_3912.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Ogni volta che percorrevo la SS261, la Strada Statale
Subequana, la mia attenzione veniva catturata da alcuni ruderi posti-vi a
ridosso,</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgptzo0t7EIcQ-HBx4IhVOXFJZQkUtjE_lNP1wzBQTXbK2_wXxnfWdjItqagVggM4YSMP7CVhnITae2JD-JrsewnccatIzrvC0mmNh9FdPdKdskjHGEuSpIz1llYttzMUJqf9pEOZlXGrqvCxc3mkcLtyPIiVRj5QICSH48zoyxLicSG0jA9CaOMPWlnbc/s16000/IMG_3926.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />parzialmente visibili tra una vegetazione molto fitta, nel tratto tra
San Demetrio Ne’ Vestini e lo svincolo per Ripa di Fagnano.<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHT-BXY_4_BDuymzEAhvva8PlNGnAsYb99xOZKEjMI-Xi1LikII3s9dpxvei4gevteuQ_7tpaA9HIetSXFEPLJfnyHOCnyiZAXFt1YgMhwDf5P4qG8SzfoXxR6GMdW32iho8vOmA0oMnhuhfR_yd5NaxD17I-Ckk6a_s2R3wdq2QVN3Ef2AkaVd8jscKw/s16000/IMG_3924.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Mi ripromettevo
ogni volta di approfondire e andavo avanti, ma oggi finalmente potevo
soffermarmi. L’unica informazione certa era<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mt7n8f4MU5OPLkhfnFYVmbEugSSSNWGOd3hLNSlCBXoSTcyzX5mb4geGRw48aVMrQoSRfuypnMgBK2JQFSB-FUc5hEfS9cyuM9E1Rq0vou33lTTkQCWE1GJGznQgqgkcBIk3HTlR2ywVxwSn9MKVNUYK2ebLElMoh-COuq-0KW7-175kWea2w5tZU3s/s16000/IMG_3922.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />nel toponimo <i>"Annunziata"</i> riportato
sulle IGM, probabilmente era una chiesa posta lungo la strada di comunicazione come punto<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKu7KW4an4Q7OEUYkEDLqX15w67hOCOkgpdanlSEfIZly2RwTKkFO6WStTmmf3_VsnwKOTH-EeWfwqvA35sypJJEZQ40T-ry1JvGkDzYx5UarnViIIs9dgQD0eKSAnak39m8T_V7sQyXCXLQHRRHkyLtLtMAhgZ_6TQcjljoDMP6U5GVMsv1WzrQDVhbA/s16000/IMG_3930.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />di riferimento per i viandanti. Purtroppo non riuscivo a trovare
ulteriori informazioni. Il piccolo edificio, pericolante e dalle volte<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsBKrhStrbIZCMeyM_M1hah6_al2sKwsug503eTS9q7c33rokt5h7a_mXs5sMnv6Xi3HLHHe_9dwBYJGAuSZ3bX_n-SACpaFjyqIIUlzlpkUpoHEPMiWtfPdQHgswAzvA7TsT43fW5DfSHniwcOQbbj1Wm7s3xfFv4zXH8GGCS84EWdpHqxlex1HF05ds/s16000/IMG_3933.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />sfondate, teneva ancora alti i suoi muri, invalicabili soprattutto a causa di
un fitto groviglio intricato di rovi. La memoria si era perduta<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVLuMWZnSj4TAvddrrzZi94YP-TQ-TBNiz2QN64supW44llm09iVG6DktX5b_1NMAtpAbx_xefejOG4bxaw7qkJW0dqSvC3cMxwvWgQVhje5ufxLsXUTZ7WC5oqeLZe45hxe2uA4uODrkd7T88GD9VmogmqbOVikFtpjf1F3gEWLU6TI0_RYZMP5xg7iY/s16000/IMG_3934.JPG" />e la natura si
riprendeva quelle pietre. Coordinate Annunziata: 42°16'15.81"N 13°33'54.18"E</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSvUQF8ElLdgwurXpaDnkhyCxIpMtal5t0xuSmn0Pv2hhanOfV-cKqjDzKV7y_0srz24R16Y9Zu65OGOepvyMhO3loRIwNoAdPf4NYqRalypOOaPoF-XIU4Pgt_enlAlKfHgEPtnY6Z4QboMFg2vndeRzii5pSir1TrZx2HoCUD8dmkLneZDVXOre27o8/s16000/IMG_3940.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-42167366030645392482023-10-29T15:37:00.004+01:002023-12-29T08:25:15.409+01:00Pensieri nel buio<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSfEKQQ74XK0xz-S4M6IUz9GVXQMSfPLyFHeLtPKmY0ddzlJw2dda4tciHysQ6INSgTlbTA6AdpVaOL4qBs8b5bQa95Wn5yD_yZaSmTc305YAiGW4K0VtuYLq2Qv85Y-BSULoyvksjhBVjkPwMmuEa3vzew3NMCjMGGv8EscG_bODfmmU1dlAlJJoWOY/s16000/PA290033.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Luoghi acquatici, bui, freddi, più dolci nel ricordo, dove
le pareti annerite di diossido di manganese mettevano in risalto il candore delle</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJJ0E0sOnArqUSjSTUK6GEXoLcJDTo-AklZhwmrM4AlEDgj_sdtSaE5Y6bXVWHnc1MgMnLKLHogocgyUXQ-8vT5XVnhZgY8PDaMVhvKcAruUE0djTLstPZGB3EusIWbSdH-yJiYD5-qoMhIB2mkUimln_DQDH9sBORhtbl1X_w674T_ojoQVl8Y5eDtQ/s16000/PA290010.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />concrezioni. Luoghi che amplificavano le emozioni come una cassa di risonanza,
dove lo scintillio della calcite era più brillante delle stelle.<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GxaVw_6j8KgjuDeMFNUXrmZTAa34tW27jATf-T2Tk-6E8UxuiyM2U5xxn9LGgrF-hc9g9GMWeE_b0SCasIDiOW1ml-Fs2aBt8st4TV3y_KYWtVw4r7Cfhv0FPsCrU0GcqvhXoPyyNLiPkNvFhiflb_jrK6rRyiB8KjsG5YPugpKnp0h-pl9dTqnbfKo/s16000/PA290036.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Luoghi dove la
notte si raccoglieva eterna nella parola riecheggiata di un amico che non c'era più, memorie già lievi
e sommesse,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgomazFJeOn1v7IDqxOvGBkR7mubCMWqXhtI49uio53kvG2J_UMyL6Mgpq7F7PX2iJ5UC5Iiefe_2QBOrtz68ihyofqY5W3G-amEZK8bWJaGfQS5N585ugZBec1Nue11rH2Xrl-txHhN1PVvErkD9YGpy12pU4Nh5obgiQSsV_9csdnOX55zqwmNN0hdb4/s16000/PA290039.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />malinconiche nella consapevolezza della fugacità della vita, come
lo scomparire dell’acqua tra i mondi sotterranei.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMpB3lu5rdjnKT8HUPNdzs-pEMIIxbPpuFUmNhAPSu4E7JTWN2wxJ__PmJj7GfzOAhs_vhfGqydncmMmxUCxYPN2ClxVdwaP-QMYmVPDCsaCuSrRG_JgMel7R05rTnvDpwXPUdMme21hLPH-_9VGsYE3aJj803XOPqRDWqiPCMdymtNQShi8NPNnEU3c/s16000/PA290043.JPG" /></div></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-53071775317533675622023-09-30T11:47:00.052+02:002023-12-24T15:05:39.215+01:00Viaggio in Sardegna<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwKXfU5JTGN9pk71h_eJ-MUz0OfBFHza4AbCGsIVKcVffBMIOgH78aTkMQjyUVdpVVZLTtOUOLRsG23xIK6WR59kzcVZxY3g8lOezQZpkyr1oPywo3CM7dUow2oCBBUj3P4FusP_SG0og28vFGdx8s9EPT4xUmFuYNxofZdTyL_pzlbE1ssdudyGvYvM/s16000/IMG_3423.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">La Sardegna mi rimaneva sempre nel cuore, ogni volta si
lasciava scoprire nella sua bellezza autentica, terra di giganti, terra di</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGp_MCvgpJyb9PZd8Xnq-KNDL74cDeuouUfNYPNqAjBRtnojzAbjznI5WMOUCM4nMDJM5JjwPw9Sz73ViKWNjzyeG8dj3RcRGf1Y0_drsQmaaYTFLLFc5QBS92eLPc3fQ3bd8OihlMQpBt6zvIkEi1czeoSOkbRe7EvJm-kAv6e36Io5e56bJNUp0k8E/s16000/IMG_2201.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />simbolismi
ancestrali, terra enigmatica dove perdersi era come ritrovarsi, in connessione
alla terra, al cielo e all’infinito. Percorrevamo<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3jdbz7yNsQwDVk8Xk7rnwCbEcWZZbBsLArGFhc46PxCSUyB-i6fcH3ZPwaPodROx44mkroqcrR2MbbSnDRRRU7RUa81K5L3mX9_7XtWt5n3nQdOcvtmvDlaivAoI16u4CxlFDvkjIX13NNMrd1sbDe3XzQl8lVVAZkDCzNwcf0nDnV7JOkUFdtksDaxY/s16000/IMG_2237.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />in bici le strade assolate e solitarie
tra Nuoro e Oliena, bordate di fichi d’india e mandorli, portando un saluto d’omaggio
a Maria Grazia<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHwv1Y4p9stV1viRwSkM5VJTYXoy9sWOlhwz47kKTbIGd46xioZ1uo-FWq9M8UgZaKogxHKary5ifTUnLcx_Wwq1LXRKO6lYcm1jp3CSVTvSDmfHN1Tq33ctcdZvpGfwveZi3etSrmzklmsc_p91UxvF6CGgdyTsXdoJTstRkt0NvLSTuvJipSZDOk37U/s16000/IMG_2304.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Deledda. Visitavamo il villaggio nuragico di Serra Orrios, costruito
con blocchi di basalto tra ulivi millenari. Conoscevamo l’antico<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_cOghqCMjFX7CBcOtBHAlw5b02HOLXL77IcfBO8Qycdvi15vXDvCqYOGhG5zXGQfmxhKcGo-bxxOG4biCdGOIHR3W1o68UCPQeVhKvl607GnljfDZUOjqaTEv60pt80u0sdA2Fi6h0IC6HNRtytt1RDHUC1xWrJgkyv2bnyeNNEB28PZ37bEHcY_EHM/s16000/IMG_2349.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />insediamento
dell’inespugnabile Tiscali, varcando Sa Curtigia, il suo caratteristico
passaggio con una spaccatura nella roccia. Percorrevamo<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-GzB4aRgQBDV8ovBUtk6HiPHMlwqMkI76C5JJAXgb3fH_ShEOoZHsXXwDV8uiR6RmxwIrTIIS2Q4HPAPntbonqq-g5wDNN2Z00mh-xoWuaHtyhTPQ9iISIcj4df0ONFeEaqdiGBKkyNznG6PKg0F3UJBnLQMBsuOLGgs6fzjNfmvcZziI8y4S7OWqRBA/s16000/P9181403.jpg" style="text-align: center;" />con la canoa il Fiume
Cedrino, visitavamo l’Eremo di San Pantaleo, conoscevamo la Sorgente di Su Gologone.
Ci inoltravamo nelle<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBdW1gjyXNjRmOQbNseVHwwwKdv-DPovnuo5HdO9JiC280lvPJVZxBoADewMy3uflzyFODlL_c2bEuSYYS6q78_N6BwTz3KQ6mv2Mv0UQypHGnlfk-2CJLycQubmxj4csLExJQK0G05KiUWv28XrWu4WV5cMRsciHX_1REA6-5KJVw4PapG1jYycP8zc/s16000/IMG_2565.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />suggestive Gole del Gurropu, dal Passo di Genna Silana, a
Urzulei. Cercavamo ovunque le mitiche Domus de Janas. Dormivamo sul Golgo.<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OBLupG7q-ip9wYs0Y7qWoxExJncRR_wsLYYX0jZ9nUgMe3uaCCvG4NSFjitBVQrF4QRlikS8nLYHmRYVpTloEQ3EXV5Rfi-L6rSY9f_ZZcaqkb8jyT65TG6Xt1n0XIoVyMqt96v9_UsSl0tD-zurBrqCSHXyMlr29lbTVk3fOVmo6bV_cNj5QDQ-36s/s16000/IMG_2907.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Da
Su Porteddu un percorso escursionistico ci conduceva all’esclusiva Cala
Goloritzè, ormai troppo conosciuta e affollata ma pur sempre<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnu1fb_aIIoPVaTk7FmQ-cWT1JmiUUs4HQx3ijO6EtQIh4uUXw8Ahb3OQKAgnONWLDKxqd6xRsEaCoBZlGUZZu2vtCbm-MgGQKP96NPgx5sk3ekPmW-FbOi9tcH2Lfrgpf5bZmsieykqn7C8-SY1GIFQvdfmmua4PSJ7giaD9GEzCr0dXnTof7kdhKb78/s16000/IMG_3013.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />bellissima. Alla
spiaggia di Foxi Manna, in Tertenia, campeggiavamo sul mare, qui tantissimi nuraghe
impreziosivamo il territorio con la<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfYtNeMtwkHEhHlxZaDWb5bhV_n0AMYS_51AKF3buJ6D9sMlBzimvwPbmGg65GOSfZCbAQqvVqWxKPHQ_f2r2er6b3cllQ3-aB22G2Ev3PkmLtgZ0pGz-1UU9mFGXSn_uTMZ271FYCxnTbijWoLKgjhUlLeNtRYjdd9JBHdke5rb5U9mFyjaVP8ZsuC6Y/s16000/IMG_3046.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />loro testimonianza storica, tra torri, aree
archeologiche e pozzi sacri, li visitavamo spostandoci in bici seguendo le
indicazioni degli abitanti<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmykjOasrQMclFaBN7FMLptEBXe_LkE5LoFaPSy01_1ibZKvFV644SzeoO2YbTogn0_5Zu1cnQpKGlPdnBnOPqPMR1sapI97o55z1e3JTg1kyh9NjAIhDnItX_6047dAuDAIw3qStjKkHRp84DX5O_t-3zEcEPP0gjz_cVXQcAeMnt4ggIXwfxCj9TTt4/s16000/IMG_3079.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />del posto. Pranu Muttedu. Ci spostavamo nella Sardegna occidentale,
nella zona di Cabras tra saline e fenicotteri rosa, scoprivamo la bellezza<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJaZzVP9pg2weaFTIyh6Zjbv-lkJr8Q1_Iwnf6eezXBdCTE2INEtzSeM-uy3QY3WutrCPi5ja-F7k8plZHfiTr7yOV53qUuQlR1A3uBfWFAcz4NRbVcU9gGViLL5D-dGHVajvsVhRGmbgy977gm-4x_JOYQwfsuoZmPjOAf94orT3h8McMkHWJT_glG4/s16000/IMG_3082.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />di
San Giovanni di Sinis, la laguna di Mistras, le rovine dell’antico abitato di Tharros.
Ci soffermavamo nella bellezza della spiaggia di<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVtDt-llQdsUmAiUgp-y6S9b013A_qvXq5ogGlzjenqNwPsjYk53f05U9PloNblwXAtFEPpcxYsZKNrVj3-pP1aWidK1mh8kOzHMsH5N_EUzs3uSiEtucnQ4yR9IPlx0-6eePTXOXD_mLVRxP7i4wR1S_VgHGS_WNYeP2b5xISfICccERjK3L_Yza-pg/s16000/IMG_3109.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Is Arutas, con i suoi granelli
di quarzo, e in quella di S’Archittu. Sulla via del ritorno, di nuovo nel
versante orientale, conoscevamo l’Isola di<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0E_DVfI5DZaYBaho-Ug1noI1nXk_7c7yLGJAKH4Z-ehd-QHscYHgfQ5wl47JJjFon9TDTWEJ56vJHbkdb-jGQ70Ot4icYU-HRevRmEmIfDWttGzPViURuogzUUPMQP2PHzQc1TM66P_kg9kcdaywvsKZ6knQvMsmz0esQNWGjnqN7kn8yQr4uhxpikY/s16000/P9281642.jpg" style="text-align: center;" />Tavolara, con i suoi fondali limpidi
e i pesci arcobaleno. Poi San Teodoro, Cala d’Ambra e la Spiaggia di Porto
Ottiolu...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCscYbmvT3cDBKgm8BPeoHH9t27LFZ4uUe6Q7TalSDSP5U0wqL8Fnrd-pBbmjDO1lQBIcKBa1ILLcRD1RtD4MSS7_lZdbjnUkDAmR6Svze-zpD7F1DDRmYbbGovTR98ixC-yHWTQVs3awGoUTRyK0wtVZ206EApu8fIg1LuzyvLJzw_gHJz1FxfkpPis8/s16000/IMG_2816.jpg" style="text-align: center;" /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-40245070227634338142023-09-10T16:30:00.003+02:002023-12-29T08:24:05.531+01:00In canoa sul Fiume Tirino<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkR8Ckj9GsEQZf1syhQ_GZixCA5u0hSeCK8J9i8HEjShQHANGcUJkgzUsjHS5VKN7Sk9IuhONYY9fiCJ9D_l_nhJOm8_J8fV_yQFxFiVrRPVEN1_b9EUtX2VHyJfaQ_3OS9v5gBBPuPw_G3U3AlwCWF-q6FgUfceijyUis3EkDrBHO0cJedPQ5BEHWRK4/s16000/IMG_2042.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Le acque cristalline lasciavano scrutare i fondali del
fiume, dove una rigogliosa flora sommersa seguiva ondulante il flusso delle
acque.</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ohUZzihl_32Q3hdj0GQJ_R25bC4844BiQphtC7RsfCICe3XPBKAH_W2NewPjQyfNaTMabr58Xcf2mymEg-L-XZxzT0Gi8dwsB9v-60L0sopdF70jyOaypKt0BOzg5TnyW56cHw-Qffb3dGg4Ror4D91h-LjL5bqMK9EDKikvR8tZyEiAb7n88NpAIcM/s16000/IMG_2082.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Innumerevoli polle d’acqua manifestavano micro-sorgenti, e di tanto in tanto anche
il nuoto delle trote si lasciava indagare. Seguivamo contro<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvKKZonbmPbMnJ8-VzxwYZWuJkhbfrjNxSQfzoXZArB8QzBsGPw_WlrdsnOHr5pKaEvPtw3vjtLLOHgGOhKvRfD4Uc5tf_GtfwmWhUQf_rbI-BT_8u29OCo5kjVyYIE_i9UNl_nmsr_-td4YLB7QtlhmKnve8hyphenhyphennR_FZf_hpiKyi8Z2kToPC0X0swys68/s16000/IMG_2121.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />corrente il corso
del Fiume Tirino tra salici bianchi, pioppi neri e fitte cannucce di palude. Facevamo
sosta in un ampio slargo dal basso<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggT-L9MmMgl_o5_xafQqWqDH7hFdEb3A0ud82FllzwU3My4a5ptbu_cxYq2XhICyzuK-STwm7d-03WVOEw09QnQ-2Sb0Gv1FFcaMaEcis7jRNC5M1RF_bFgPgD4fheWbj9wMABvQjpmL6RVaToPj3OvmujTpIy_xpuQW64IS_89nLKCF1xjZR53UkUDyc/s16000/IMG_2096.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />fondale, dove i nostri traghettatori ci
facevano assaggiare la <i>sedanina</i> lì raccolta.
La via del ritorno era silenziosa e sfruttava la corrente che</span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='400' height='300' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyQ9IctUsIAs2i7BdUOZSOJE2VAqiX4JskKg9QcmD6rN3zc3e0b3P6oJwYpL-eBPWo5pPIf2KFy-sWLVY84PA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><span style="font-family: georgia;">dolcemente ci riportava
indietro, nessuno parlava, le luci del pomeriggio ammorbidivano le ombre, la
quiete risanava tutti i pensieri.</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8G67OwQttC1gNU5_U-z39jz4UnCYtbfANk7Z-onql405zFfnFAW-n6_dRca9gqE7iqTaFtFdNvjwNjuel9NKzlVsZZHpR3TQJOjNZK8bpeMpkl2gLhhU2e3pIQU2l1UF_obF3LLPlMb44c6LRlEFd_jMwad6RYD5RGBOuQlUEKy3HNYPN5mZuJPE5BQ/s16000/IMG_2113.JPG" style="font-family: georgia; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Escursione in canoa sul Fiume Tirino a cura dalla Società Cooperativa
Il Bosso: <a href="https://www.ilbosso.com/canoa-fiume-tirino">https://www.ilbosso.com/canoa-fiume-tirino</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-12064471176264756142023-09-10T15:22:00.039+02:002023-12-24T15:50:03.587+01:00I fiori della vita di San Pietro ad Oratorium<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Sjsrhly6q6Mh9vJH7ycdxj3gc45B2_H5iIhrIn0qsLbpv45qjcrm8Kw8eVs839fxKy-eBFopNudxviQYJrHsKBe_FsPZqZRVHV_a91BSUW24ERjGWBGp4i-JELMnHvqup64DDk1J81Lk4wGJFuvhGaqYY0A1-DyuY5cxAH0S-up1_yTpTyGGtulkFuI/s16000/IMG_1938.jpg" style="text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="text-align: left;">Ero stata molte volte alla Chiesa di San Pietro ad Oratorium
nei pressi di Capestrano, famosa per il suo quadrato magico rovesciato,</span></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-nw_hyphenhyphenle48frtf7p069qmKFdbrZs75uWHr1gsqb4_BjwPpOAbCoIU2mNzPRdkYK2N6ceRnaYjEHi2cYo3ChCWZ3kSuKHPhKtDffiYyVk-Y1wxa6ppghb48Tbu-BbArdcBPRS0T5CPIcG01je5Xm_dga8ZZzHRe9JBvtPlYlOKMuV4TFUeMd291S57zU/s16000/IMG_1914.JPG" style="text-align: justify;" />bellissima sotto l’effige di Re Desiderio. L’avevo contemplata ed indagata,
eppure non mi ero mai accorta che al suo interno custodiva</span></span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vN-p9yYTuR-9AIDyLLVCfMadWN7wSKy4OpRN7eve6zZGtFXv1GyUGN5VwVV0M5jUGlGEmC_w3BwPOR2f-lEeVNHY7ySvf7YXWWiFHgG1wrC2dZ3-nUr-_b2tT0aJ9E8aLlN4wJ1sL7NqtTy-psuE6218zRhuZs0grII84GaAPSeN158VPgYzE7p38iw/s16000/IMG_1954.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">dei fiori della
vita, dettami del paradigma della crescita dell’universo. C’erano occhi nuovi dopo
l’esperienza, una bellissima contemplazione</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBQqcKkSWEVFkMsA0DYvAPyUYi5OfR0AGpbEfy4eP-Ovi-nsHziJznOXBQXeBLYcXCGy4diPCFmG_EAvq_Bf6p0R2NmGS3gOzHFjO1T6kcBRbrBymP83nN2cxNeui20hbBmGqGRjfM32G8glzOnafDjesrb8_pPE2UBELTh2deApycxDXBAmiOXCZNMw/s16000/IMG_1940.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">di quanto l’essenza potesse essere
invisibile e al contempo fermamente manifesta.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPiSyMqes2_JuRSyytxjuCSDe8Ky-2W493uUVy3wVeJ22IWdxhyphenhyphenX3PBKNtcemH-cMoGRUSqUnrUFHEek7DVHW6XJ2snNzX5lerfQ6smUkROR0Fx2HVW1lpt3NKBStS8YHr-95JyxMr8LZT9WcYKjUOz7yJp7tnzPkk84iTGMpuR0MCoDwegLR4jHkLi4/s16000/IMG_1967.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-45084906287984831602023-09-01T16:04:00.001+02:002023-09-05T16:30:20.345+02:00Il Sentiero degli Dei<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7m1rF9XnmOipgeMF6MbC0EQ5nV4WNQHZf9Q71TWWB71XgWqPgum2eFXBRipm_ejqD5ZjVyOF-PjtSlrk9gQ8TA_rI83NKQmB48VJsULZimpm9fgS8hMtSjfQzMEzeMv6gqaUyXgBnEg0L5ak564hm0y4IVpgJWac6Hkn6RGLW1VvJVeND78VnrkNgKEA/s16000/IMG_1695.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;"><i>“Partendo proprio dal
Sentiero degli Dei da quella strada sospesa sul magico golfo delle Sirene,
solcato ancora oggi dalla memoria e</i></span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSN09jR4rpcdDocDurMXv6RxG233S1JLfMeol07lpAWSozaGwdDPsHT2l2ZHsmHzHX6QflGM2TbwBC8sIvGoTS3UrJCMd3WmoaKAQuXCoetkCuH8j1SNwkaXE5CzXsvHq7PnWsiJenzSeGoLlYOURjY5oUmpziKazKQR6nShpa6UV9pWqK2-MXBg8ec_E/s16000/IMG_1682.JPG" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;" /><span style="font-style: italic;"><i>dal mito”</i>…</span> le parole di Italo Calvino
ci introducevano al percorso, così come quelle di Lawrence. Il potenziale di
bellezza si percepiva fin<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYRz_4caeW19qNKszRZA8bzERXn31c9lcal-IfUkLgTZEyaro_6nndb5HRX1mgVVg-kgl3Qrl45aj4qcjHKaoWqrS4OnH0lG14_GZfCzct_MCULn0YWF0EJfMtpBlUV9SFgM-i9szbPri3oKrq4izcM5oWDlUICFEMGbu5pwlnvA0PLM152SJraLZQVA/s16000/IMG_1686.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />da subito, grazie ai meravigliosi affacci panoramici sospesi
tra cielo e mare. Sul ciglio di gole e dirupi la via era molto comoda e curata,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-FVr3q8CeSHgro-7sc9PlQWCkP9o5756xh1Hl-ks8SEzxWk2gDh49GvzRADexeLASYSofYZ71KR5XH5oACJUPot4fxZDgRlLpFe9iNYElsZhenlr0RNqztKA2S6I9oaJQk741Q5qxQ8CWLUuXohnPfrqV6ZB5u1dgPTlF7rlF2sLoLLzqJ4e4x5nX5U/s16000/IMG_1700.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />intraprendevamo quella alta tra una vegetazione rigogliosa e respiri d’ombra. Paesi,
baie e promontori, coltivi terrazzati di vigneti<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lrKidMz0OTYFeC0OArPT-OigJwXqA6aKaeMqgf7ypu-Gpp44Hi8K-g7ugUIj3sfugyKu7euSbhI80gcx8bKH7QhVD6m6LlDTUPXATJIR0pDI7DH49zsONOHwSGnETHJaxhQ1eQqXraGS_tErVfM07sH6zy7mLuP40nJRlcvvh2t9yUOLrR4cndAZNAk/s16000/IMG_1702.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />e costruzioni rurali arricchivano
la vista panoramica del nostro cammino che scendeva fino a Positanto, dove
prendevamo un autobus<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYkT2IRI85W3oW1tDvlSfPLnpUUCy3J3uI7z0ezxYQ-7Tjk1EBPbjeyUrCbOrlmdT61v8MsolqkL6jX3-X7qzApszOzZcCHshhnStsZsuCoGBxN85BscptqKaH1EHTz-p4JlTGebJPzMX-7mnSpj949297OWsxUtZhUsywzGHNXyD0NUw2PyHzHf8i6Lo/s16000/IMG_1711.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />fino a Vettica Maggiore per intraprendere la via del
ritorno dal paese di Praiano. Una lunga gradinata di roccia risaliva tutta la
montagna<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkBRxtoi-uH0bdpms0BDpoL30Zij3CyvHnV3zZ75JSCXkGDInMCxuXXrpp1ag9XQ17mBRZT-frFvFQtxQCg2B8zgiWu6QSiVkKHFuyvGKuS0gWl4FPh2VtjR3RvvGGaTtUe9YkqhNfDjHqqYS6-A0s11vjiB_jX7r-AliSEOLkhEwGT_Kd9qbCQafjKjo/s16000/IMG_1731.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />fino a chiudere un anello, ricalcando così nel rientro il percorso di
andata.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovo68TWIcBrhL39yEMO5u8sRjAKOluehbkWR3rd-v58FvoW7SS_6S3FkxfN8Obmyxh1d3E4Gu1_WwdXXDfyom3lqrVQTFOF8Gjave1YbUZwqUHGdTPOVBV4NwGDOD29Do4Pd6Az7uszEuhlY0PAMQxYBf5t6c66PL27izxL6QGJhMBko3kfJkyEOfiH8/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="1920" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovo68TWIcBrhL39yEMO5u8sRjAKOluehbkWR3rd-v58FvoW7SS_6S3FkxfN8Obmyxh1d3E4Gu1_WwdXXDfyom3lqrVQTFOF8Gjave1YbUZwqUHGdTPOVBV4NwGDOD29Do4Pd6Az7uszEuhlY0PAMQxYBf5t6c66PL27izxL6QGJhMBko3kfJkyEOfiH8/w400-h201/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1093312976897594405.post-6949601832394973732023-08-31T17:36:00.004+02:002023-09-04T18:38:54.420+02:00Punta Campanella della Penisola Sorrentina<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SFAWjl0Urv3ViuzoRPSM_90vs3J2LW8jSs7rmUjZT0dO8Vz2flWfKUndjjLR5sASpU7b_9rre1tDLNVWR1M4-55nHJhda-lC9pb2mz4CWs92OMTbocPt7ByXNKgq_L4TVZ_5avW_n_Z3U6Wfo3OgqkQLEUM3kTEouh3KXt5KU8Cir_dDwrUxO2XW0Hc/s16000/IMG_1613.JPG" /><span style="text-align: justify;">Punta Campanella si animava del fascino della leggenda del
mito, il canto delle sirene di Ulisse era nell’eco del vento che prendeva
fisicità</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXv9te3K96j_cJBXiENWfu_OzQWMeJYnTvb-oN7-PsHtUTPwwyNNQI2ftELn8-JyLndqTOMSQO0WXWFkvN3Av4auj-YWfUXCg1dg1IKbCBJW7KzibOEzVPVqkRlS6enDPusXo6m4CIYTQLHw9mPfmBM_VjkbN8VZ4xoLE1OC8mfNifaXiWo0Er3gwb6Es/s16000/IMG_1620.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />attraverso il movimento di foglie ed arbusti. Tra mirto, lentisco,
rosmarino, elicriso, ginepro fenicio e ginestra, vi erano i profumi della<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGD3aMgNk2b2eY91Fxe0oPbO1p3YpotT7Ic_mB52l1XOLPrYEHog3KYKwETxT6a03ivPaD64CJs3aIiIoztK2MIYhYkbugkjKgnsLkz3ry23eNBYsbHhe2trSq0yqUdjEEscaLA1FMZaZJACcd5htlmNYhrV9cna8yOaZNNgdaW3_nurOCJVzu3IRBbuA/s16000/IMG_1561.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />loro
essenza misti a quello del mare, che con il suo essere coinvolgeva tutti i
sentimenti. Sulla cima della montagna la piccola chiesa<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0WfL0Nz4UNgW0twY8FBuYDiXoHF3UVVMXszQR2bwkcc61B3I35QZJhbgENODTkisqG6yrUjWf5mhn80179xf8ZrzXgGAUK7nOT8bmKC2E_wAXsFgaTDtz4VUIwjt1zJHRvBfQq32NETNGLmXexBbGFIB0rA-1SPYk1USRpDt6k5ciOE7pYfRItbsFHk/s16000/IMG_1560.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />di San Costanzo segnava
il punto di congiunzione tra cielo e terra, le sue semplici pareti bianche si
esponevano alla rosa dei venti,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTKPXqnkNQMc64-4HCl0nk9W2EYEcS62jG2vX5_ayF2T0YUCfpYMvrwnRY58XtMIFd5Mm93yxmvpHN80ePBT2uyuGXD2pVVKUrq1UDV6DBbMrbznncJKnrjoe7GRJZiy_FYO6tj8GkNHn22Kggx3P7p1nqfBpO6gdqDS0GBh2nQN-pbF891DlNyedchZM/s16000/IMG_1566.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />ammirando panorami sconfinati che si perdevano
a vista d’occhio, tra il Golfo di Napoli e il Golfo di Salerno. Da Termini
partiva una comoda<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkHTFSJKgbq1j3UhQP9cti-4G41nsXdGrpFgBNfR6R-VMZbrZai4ny1w6ftQ1e0gr3O8yMahwD5kKCzSEoCpJjZsKInVc0-Yl8-ARz_U-PmpDkKccmGzu68iqE5QfTh8r538TbdDtUBVyKuwqjaPxQyVuatmVfoldeEcpCyG4p6_PtD5Dip-SzzmctYs/s16000/IMG_1554.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />strada che ricalcava l’antica via Minerva dove in molti
tratti era ancora visibile l’antico basolato romano risalente al IV sec. a.C.<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUeWcJhjDw1nhSjb1xKWKRqQZr8MHP_DGhIPTbdSXN_5tIADgukzAWiJ7jLuL53wRaEWVSVvmNKt69s67S7SfbV9poClvWkyBVcJhOS2fnGDRbDANtETClO_CIhZbvo-pHEadrDrMa73b05rWZcOGJpLd8quKCzGQJBf0dyAeVytw39McTwqlIELF-MCM/s16000/IMG_1600.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />Il
promontorio di Athena ci donava la testimonianza dei resti di una villa romana,
scale intagliate nella roccia, vasche e sostruzioni voltate,<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-LpsJhxutshowkSqB_6KwSbywFMEFdQU4KDIFB4HhKrSrKldkovJRMJgYdlKIk1NSM4n4Px_yImq2fN9Y8fT_SzCC-EFbTFBDBv4Fvslt2SMw9YYJzengsr-0WJSt94TW8QQq5NZ37kTXGLLuRdsyk_W0NZlxTijRBYb1rv_GGEsxaaYKdMMs3vq-r00/s16000/IMG_1644.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />ma soprattutto di
notevole bellezza erano i due approdi, orientale e occidentale, che si
incuneavano nelle rispettive pareti rocciose di<img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6BfcAVvvtYmqT-44Yfc5FcPcb-28C9yxQCmKgH1YbNYB074SG8IFCKjATvWE9bDv7FdbLt2TWfefgr1S_UXwpUjxjK5dY0k_AUnpr7sLfCD6RO4RNR1gn8I_WalGfkyTEahD4f8rnOxAxI0YuTRQkW6srCJlg82_oAhFPWV93xYFByhiXXM63IhMl9Q/s16000/IMG_1652.JPG" style="text-align: center;" />slancio vertiginoso. Un
cartello informativo del luogo riportava queste informazioni: <i>“Al Promontorio di Punta della Campanella si
giungeva</i><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizA2S0JUlrC-H0UZ9hR-IL0ngxFk3QH2xv8GsOz2Y-Bp_bnWjA0Th6Yobc-i_3qT95c5J4laRV-q4_n7JZ48NHmqq5-DDWMVpJbhaj0NrLhDi4TJ2JSkKsbL4ObNqWiFT5etuO7yrgIZhtB-ZU_W961PRpl-LPaedtqb2MNz5LAmJZfUVsMpu3lEFwTJw/s16000/IMG_1660.JPG" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;" /><i>anche da mare, attraverso due approdi: uno occidentale ed uno
orientale. La presenza di un'area sacra dedicata al culto di</i><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWf1ueFfmUKhoFT8rxzKZQ2YmAvs60bpct7OTI0o_trfCwBsAJS-OpLiiLIA1RGH6jJSJmjD2jvup_RHPeqiymX-tz_EWoGGwH_HTHDsW99yxfJ8KnXztgHTfd3z4-cV_fK8tv8bk0saTO1qrhB9ANfY2WquIzrxFJHnNCEvxJf8X6RxTU6Gxsaes__eQ/s16000/IMG_1584.JPG" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;" /><i>Athena/Minerva è
indicata anche dalla scoperta di un'epigrafe in lingua osca, databile alla
prima metà del II secolo a.C. L'iscrizione,</i><img border="0" data-original-height="110" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc4n7HCX6MdU2gAa2VCFkPyIM1LGSm5km_ZQJ_2BaJ-1-gnxy3d37Of-LT1irIk9WQQY6tIqeKwc_D4aZbhqWjAzd39Yuj2DU72yJCsan-XuJEgYM2aHqCCCJUnkwnRHh1yToSj6KAOuuWdC53dz6StQ1ceHiU-LhWeH-8eQ25x5lyAUC6-LbAniJGj58/s16000/IMG_1608b.jpg" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;" /><i>incisa sulla parete rocciosa
risalente dall'approdo orientale, nomina tre meddices Minervii (magistrati) che
appaltano e collaudano i</i><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKr0ZsHVRPzRvBSYB6FiR4jsVFcjRUZMXwa_oXVSNzeJt-ARw2vcvrmPObP2sPeAxBmVcYhtrk-l6YIXNmYYPHu1iYuYzZAJ3mTUMlujy9t-nRhXNit0EvcIS-vCNtLiORBjedASi_CzOvY7gKkXQJ2dzO0k4s1om7G_UQQauIPUptFI6yILcTmxv8wj0/s16000/IMG_1650.JPG" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;" /><i>lavori per l'approdo stesso al santuario e la
costruzione della scala intagliata nella roccia. Questa epigrafe, oltre a
confermare la divinità</i><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SaftAkiesBAZbe6x3dxIufRafNybmhZXm-_0_bOzTSpkMlD9-c1jx87keNBDxxk2aEiFHi5qyTCaOU2VrxjIUux2dXrFZwHRydCLotn5mZRTDPHAvfZODKrdRevdnPnoYac0GX_i7XkyQGFJ8I62nMhHB8XoTKzKz8ASrv56lDzf5PKkQR0O0k9mitQ/s16000/IMG_1632.JPG" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;" /><i>di culto del santuario, comprova la presenza sannitica
all'estremità della penisola sorrentina e l'amministrazione del santuario
stesso. Il</i><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0R-KnTFz-KIhKzwERWZqJw8D4RYRuTZ9ton7cWsjbLEKV1qoDAxKMLFCRwMZPwz0UNRNzCdCa0CAD83OjSM8CpnAPO8KhPmp3KyipAAYyywfVHnnnWWfV824qaH8JuVUMGUls1ddbzrt9QSjblPh3isBTAjrM7OB0oOuvBDMNl4jWCcTQxGwrFFPQbZ4/s16000/IMG_1636.JPG" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;" /><i>culto di Athena, venerata ora come Minerva, a Punta della Campanella
dovette godere quindi di una grande importanza ancora</i><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbESl_Kr2BMAg8CgbAKbBf65h12R2vQZUPkIPluSXJZEMbqANizdNCO48LKHWmWLJX1yLRntYFlsDdoMupYheEOXooH5bIZq_YM4nbno9gvHkpmJe5BYk4hvtDdabF-NLsUYklIHlEGYbnFdP4qo4TI4xpXIqDZBWdcK-Pg1y2vbM7uo2CnIxEHoIXwzE/s16000/IMG_1629.JPG" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;" /><i>nel II secolo a.C.,
quando il collegio dei decemviri romani lo accosta al Campidoglio come luogo in
cui sacrificare vittime maggiori.”</i><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span>(tratto</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgouFX52ux65G_Ma5F4ihsrNWMfAkAPtWkugFlKoKBAWlFa0BzTyPZGpxj_hXOs1JcE-2kAdCIt4Q82uG__cXZah_ixVkapB8t8kKrSoRCe6qIV_68W3KYmTkAr-1pM64V1mZflg1ndy-Va4H88iqiOLhVMGWpypAjqwxzgN0MQ41eTpVwk2zmhQQqv4nY/s16000/IMG_1591.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span>da un cartello informativo del
luogo).</span><span> Ad oggi, sulla propaggine, erano ben visibili l’antica torre vicereale
riedificata nel 1566 su</span><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHarfhmoycYzNnjb5WAcDOsV_xTHOV23owzEfNusJh2-sLrTKaTQzHIqNkarWeWHF6uX_sQKMTKnuW8pM0_l5P1jGEqBPkWWISy4RxzNWP1YRhUEody1YEe4fKXVhaWDWAqsdErIBTmF7uTKc4nX_pAH6FhXEiwOEMb3RDhQi65GMew_tJilRdlb4G7Q/s16000/IMG_1664.JPG" style="text-align: center;" /><span>quella di età angioina del 1334 e un faro moderno.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_t0mL9w296EH9rGg7CLGxwrUVh14AgkxpEJrQZM7CfdP5T1c-3cWN557lUJc26PesaZrm-edwC672-7mWfX1dQUEStsjVURarUyu3s8ordkTWTVnenm3Y0uQ_GM0428Q-4Le7zN4UkrKVIX2pBHmd8f2gMedXTZcGjoFc71CVKPoMGH5KMsrVZlwxEEU/s1920/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="969" data-original-width="1920" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_t0mL9w296EH9rGg7CLGxwrUVh14AgkxpEJrQZM7CfdP5T1c-3cWN557lUJc26PesaZrm-edwC672-7mWfX1dQUEStsjVURarUyu3s8ordkTWTVnenm3Y0uQ_GM0428Q-4Le7zN4UkrKVIX2pBHmd8f2gMedXTZcGjoFc71CVKPoMGH5KMsrVZlwxEEU/w400-h203/Senza%20titolo-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>naturagrezzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11311732637678751273noreply@blogger.com0