At midday the church bell rings in Rovinaglia, and then there's an echoing bell from Valdena on the other side of the valley, the two churches almost seeming to compete for worshippers..."Come to me!". Then, a minute or so after the others (perhaps their clock is slow) the church bell in St Vincenzo rings, a higher tone. Unfamiliar insects land on your forearms. Thunder rumbles, a cuckoo calls, rain falls in short, heavy showers. Chickens make their daily round through our yard. We read, outside and, while it rains, in...

Down after siesta to Borgo for the last time, to pick up a few bits and pieces, some "funghi porcini secchi" (Boletus edulis) and postcards. Then back to spend a couple of evening hours looking over the valley, listening to the crickets (one of Ralph's favourite sounds). A slug crawls across the patio. It is our last evening here.