The other day a group of us went picnicking by the river hidden in all that foliage. The house with the green shutters is abandoned, but so desirable – it has a view, beyond the garden, of both the ruins of the castle and the mountains off in the distance. The part of the castle most visible from there is the part blown up by dynamite, part of a standing skeleton.
Later, I bought a lovely sketch of the church in our neighbouring town from an artist there who has an upcoming show of paintings of local architecture. The sketch is charming, very lively, making me think again that it’s wrong that drawings get so little respect.
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