A Path, which stretching across Southern Italy forms part of a network of routes once followed by Shepherds herding cattle and sheep in what was called the TRANSUMANZA ( The transumanza is the Italian term for transhumance, the traditional twice-yearly migration of sheep and cows from the highlands to the lowlands, and vice versa. The word literally means "crossing the land")
I live on the Celano to Foggia Tratturo and am fascinated by its history and what remains of the old paths, which are intrinsically entwined into the stories of the region and its people.
Restoring my dilapidated old farmhouse here or hovel as my son in law calls it, is a challenge but with the help of my partner Trish we are getting there.
Our plan is to create a cultural centre, Natural park, and a Woodland of Magic to encourage and stimulate interest in both the TRATTURO as well as the natural environment of Molise.
Today I spoke with a local Riding School, here in Molise, not far from where I live and they too are passionate about the Tratturo.
http://www.occhitoridingholidays.com/en/
In fact they will be even bringing a group of riders along the Tratturo in July. A very exciting prospect for us and them.
I am hoping we can combine with a festival on the tratturo here in Lucito. More about that in another blog.
Today the sun was shining and looking across at the views across the valley, and the hazy mountain peaks of the Apennines I decided once again that I would not want to anywhere else.
Now as summer approaches the TRATTURO below my house is green, speckled with yellow, white, blue and purple flowers all nestled in amongst the soft downy grass.
Now as few feet tread upon it’s flora and fauna it remains a sanctuary for nature to run riot.
There are apparently some rare plants remaining on parts of the ancient routes one of which is LA STIPA.
A type of grass apparently used by fairies to weave into cloth, which when one looks at it fine feathery fronds is not hard to imagine.
. http://www.terremarsicane.it/il-tratturo-delle-fate-note-di-franco-sabini-e-romolo-liberale/.
Later this week I am meeting with a neighbour to start recording the history of Lucito’s memories of the Tratturo, and the Transumannza.
He still tends his goats, on the ancient lands below his farm, wiling away hours watching the world go by as he done since he was a boy, happy in his own thoughts and contemplations.
He can remember when the land below us here saw a steady stream of sheep and sometimes cattle meander leisurely over the land grazing as they went, often as many as several thousand at a time.
Many traditions relating to TRANSUMANZA are still maintained, one of which is the a type of bagpipe like musical instrument called the Zampogna
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlyVLl2KxVY
Leaving you with the dulcet and melodic tones of this ancient instrument I am off to dream about those who wandered on these lands in ancient times.
I am contemplating to the words of this poem
The hill road wet with rain
In the sun would not gleam
For lack of the traveller
And all the clouds like sheep
On the mountains of sleep
They wind into the night.
The close pine clump, at rest
Ancl black, may Hell conceal.
Though long and steep and dreary,
The mountain ways of Wales
And the Mabinogion tales,
The threes and fours so wise,
When the thrush cock sings
Bright irrelevant things,
Calls back to their own night
Troops that make loneliness
With their light footsteps’ press,
As Helen’s own are light.
Now all roads lead to France
Of the living; but the dead
Of the loops over the downs,
Hushing the roar of towns
and their brief multitude.