And so the trek begins, just outside the gates of Spello. (All shots by yours truly.)
The Augustan-era aqueduct skirts the foot trail, which goes up the southern slope of Mount Subasio and overlooks Valle Umbra. Not a cloud in a late April sky. Endless shades of green. First sounds: A rooster and a cuckoo.
Poppies, butterflies, mushrooms, flying beetles. Oak and fig trees. A Judas tree, the pink pea flowers in bloom. Olive groves.
And cacti.
Smells: Freshly cut grass, rosemary.
A sight: the Tre Archi.
And at last, three hours in, Collepino, a tiny mountain hamlet, is gained.
Nothing is open. Not even to buy a candy bar or bag of potato chips. But there is the reward of a sight, from a stone patio.
Downward.
Umbria is just stunning this time of year. So beautiful.
I’ve been introduced recently to your ‘Sundays in Italy’ feature! A delight so far, and looking forward to many more.
Your mention of Spello- here, and previously- brings back a potent long-ago memory for me.
2026 will mark for me the 50 year anniversary of having had the good fortune to live- alas all too briefly- in Perugia. My apartment was on Via Abruzzo, just inside the confines of the ancient city walls, in a single room space which seemed to share spatial characteristics with a flattened shoebox (all sloped surfaces, no two walls parallel, no actual right angles whatsoever).
The single staggering benefit however- a bargain at twice the price- was the One Large Window. This afforded a view directly southeast, over rooftops, down through the cypresses, past the intrusive construction crane, olive trees orchards snakeback roads and across the valley of the Tevere. Beyond: Assisi, hanging seemingly in mid air on the slopes of Monte Subasio. Above, the silhouette of the mountain itself. Below, often disappearing in the haze, Foligno and...Spello.
All mysterious. Beckoning. Unattainable and distant. I have never in life had a similar opportunity to ‘own’ such an intoxicating- and utterly Italianate- panorama. I spent so many hours just looking. Neglecting my Italian language studies. Nursing a bad case of dolce far niente syndrome.
Thank you for re-igniting these memories! And in particular for sharing the details of your multisensorial trek up to Collepino. I could almost smell the rosemary from here...