Toscana (2024)

How about an espresso in an airport?

How about an aperol in a café?

We can't find our bearings in these twisty old roads.

It looks too old to be Sweden.

We ask a stranger where we are.

He tells us to follow the via.

And go past the banca.

And ask Mr. Lizard.

Mr. Lizard says look, and you shall see…

… the golden, rolling hills of Tuscany.

Where the wine grapes are abundant.

But the pasta, less so.

Where the villas are gorgeous.

And the kitties cause woe.

Yasi is happy to see ripe fruits again.

There are plenty around.

She wonders how many she can pilfer.

And shares her illicit bounty with friends.

I'm more interested in the purple things.

Which are also abundant.

But not all great to steal.

We try to frame photos.

But our shadows don't approve.

We'll just have to keep trying.

Until we get into the groove.

The streets are a bit cramped.

And the cars barely fit.

The wine is self-service,

We'll have a bit.

There's a queue for focaccia.

A delicious event.

We take photos with buildings.

And see how it went.

We take photos of landscapes.

… and see how it went.

We take photos of selves.

And each other.

And snacks.

And buildings.

And alleys.

And clothes.

Since we haven't had pizza…

… we stop for a rest.

We enjoy old Pienza,

as the sun sets in the west.

We run low on sunlight,

And in its last dying throws,

We watch out for the cani,

and the fatsos.

The town square is pretty,

But we have wants to appease.

Yasi grabs garlic,

For me, it's some cheese.

We rejuvenate with pasta,

Drop off our trusty steed,

And hit the iron rails,

A good trip, indeed.