Why ... because the snow in the Alps The Alps are an area big, vast, vast fortune for. If you fly to London or back to Italy, suddenly, here they are the Alps, and from there do not seem inhabited, a sense of loss of virgin territories, from the pioneers. Is not naturally so, but for us the Italian Alps are the watershed of us here, beyond Europe. Extensive, very extensive - more than 1200 km, between 100 and 400 km wide. - Are inhabited by 16 million people. The
crossings, tunnels, scenic drives, ski slopes, the resort, hiking, climbing, and even to the pastures, cows, milk, cheese, mountain populations in contrast to the population of sea. The Dolomites, "pearl in the pearl", now declared by UNESCO "World Heritage".
But to really know what that must go into the Alps. Use, a summer evening, come panting to the hut and there, the last curve, look for safe footing stroking shale gray lichen-covered and recognize the smell. The Alps are full of perfumes, each mountain has its own, which smells "adepts", rare men who come from far away ... ... the dawn of time, from the ages of sacred trees, volcanoes, the formation of rocks, immediately recognize without guides or words.
The same smell of difficult passages, sometimes extreme, rock climbing, with trembling hands to grips with the ridiculous face, lips, eyes a few inches from where you rock hooks and check where from a crack in a tiny androsace ridicule proportions and beauty every-miniature Japanese garden of this world.
Or you have to go to the Alps in winter, but you have to be inside, with the wind howling in a snow hole and three, four, five, seven o'clock in the afternoon, and the light filtering through the snow that breaks slow in the night, and then remains only the wind calms down only when the dawn finally comes, with the sun rising over the first horizons and realize that another day has passed and a new one arrives.
Or you have to go in the Alps, without too much sweat, lying on a pasture in the summer with the smell of loose soil that rises from the holes of marmots, lying on mats Sagina, situated in the front row of a paradise on earth, without of bindweed, in buttercup anemone and Persian rugs ephemeral life .... .. ... flourish brisk brisk the snow if they have just gone and the next is already preparing. ... The great age-old larch, under far below, to ensure that huge trunk and the branch that's how the wind remained. The stone pine, a bit 'more about the last sentinel twisted, but not become too brave his climb?.
If awakened by a magical lethargy, we open our eyes up there in the middle of the Alps, we would know immediately identify color and light. Not the way we think, but with the senses and chamois: a light that is made of light shadows, but never in darkness and knows how to wet sulfur in gullies, to explode full, round intoxicated with delicate and indescribable as soon as you reach the ridge.
In May, at London's Chelsea, groped to make this a bed! We do not sleep at night to transmit this feeling these emotions. London crossroads of the world. But the Alps are often their own "city of the climbers, English and French, Americans and Germans, who captured the best of these intimate aspects of the Alps and were able to pass them.
Surely in the Alps was inspired by Bill Viola for his great work "Room for St. John of the Cross" where someone wrote it was broken the boundary between philosophy and poetry. But maybe you're just caught mysticism, and tremendous intangible great consolation that only the Alps can give.
Even these words to explain what you can not explain, let's go on with our presumption to make it to the Chelsea Flower Show, regardless of the place, regardless of the time, independently of us.
mirrors, plants, research into the nursery, permits, light and colors: Try everything at our house, our mountains ... .. we - the public-Gentile wanted to say ... .. here is a feeling: the Alps But what came to mind?, it was rather a handsome Italian garden, four terracotta pots and lemon trees, box trees, stones, the fountain, the putto, or a soft scopiazzatura "cool" with both blue and soft lines and grasses that like so much?.
Damn us, "peevish old man," "Lights and colors of the Alps, all right!!
