It’s interesting how so many periods of our lives are relived by music. This morning while contemplating writing this story, this song became an ‘earworm” spinning in my head.

The beginning of the steep walk downhill toward new discovery points in the neighborhood on a finally warm and sunny day.

Yesterday, after we’d already written the post for the day, it was time for me to go on my strenuous walk in the neighborhood to get my exercise. I had only branched out so far with my trepidation about getting lost in the maze of roads and narrow passageways between the houses that appear to go on forever.

With the interesting narrow walkways, the walk stays interesting and fresh each time we enter on the way down the steep climb.

Reminding Tom of my lack of sense of direction, he did a hefty “harrumph!” saying, “Wait, I’ll get my shoes.” 

A familiar spot that assures us we’re going in the correct direction.

With a sheepish grin on my face, having accomplished my goal without nagging, we marched out the door with vigor on the first really warm morning in a week.

On one of my previous exercise walks last week, I reminded myself of our last dog, Willie.  When exploring in our leash-free neighborhood, he’d travel far down the road, stop and contemplate before he took another step with a look on his face that said, “Will I find my way home?” That was me last week. 

It’s evident that the owners of this house have taken special care of an appealing well-kept exterior.  Obviously, the stone lasts for centuries.

It’s ironic, isn’t it, us dog lovers often become like our dogs, rather than them becoming like us? 

Often beads, vines, or ropes are used in the doorway of the front entrances, most likely for privacy during the day with an inner door to lock at night.

I had yet to show Tom the overlooking the parking area I’d found deep within the maze of houses. I proudly stomped along, mostly downhill, with pride in the fact that I could remember how to get there. I was hoping he’d say “good girl” (or “good dog”) when we arrived, but giving praise doesn’t come easy for Tom.I shrugged it off.

The view above us from the level parking deck I’d discovered a few days ago, which was as far as I’d ventured on my own, fearful of getting lost in the maze of narrow passageways.  With Tom’s excellent sense of direction, continuing on was easy.

As we neared the edge of the level overlook parking lot, we heard the clucking of chickens in a yard next to the driveway.  Not wanting to snoop in a private yard, we were unable to get a photo, but the sound was music to our ears.

With all of the houses attached to one another, the various doors are the focal point of interest to define the differences, some modern and well-kept and others worn and in ill repair, not unlike homes in many neighborhoods.

Before traveling to Tuscany, I had this vision in my head of chickens clucking, down the narrow roads, freely on their own. Much to my disappointment, we’ve yet to see this occurrence, instead finding chickens walking unencumbered in their pens, pecking on morsels on the ground, and clucking away merrily. 

Are doors such as this blocked off due to being unoccupied, or are the homeowners blocking off additional access to their house for other reasons, i.e., security, privacy, etc.?

After leaving the overlook parking lot, we continued on to new territory, up and down endless narrow, hilly pathways, huffing and puffing, discovering squeal-worthy sights along the way. (Having increased my fitness level and Tom having quit smoking when he retired, the huffing and puffing are less than expected). It couldn’t have been more delightful.

Notice the year this house was built above the door.

Little did we know the treasures that Boveglio has tucked away as one goes where only tiny cars maneuver as well as the surefooted curiosity seekers, such as ourselves.

Short tunnels such as this are common, often leading to one or more private homes.

Suddenly, we found ourselves in an open “square” or courtyard, even with a tall statue of whom, we weren’t sure. Nonetheless, we shot the photo. The accompanying carved marble slab was hard to read to translate.

Turning to our right, we saw the first open business, we’ve stumbled across in Boveglio, a tiny bar, open early in the morning with nary at guest on a bar stool.  Tomorrow, we’ll post photos of the little bar, empty except for the pleasant owner, when we arrived around noon.

As we entered the newly discovered square, the houses inside each were unique and mysterious.  How interesting it would be to see the inside!

The statue we found in the center of the square.

The inscription on the side of the statue was difficult to decipher.  It appears that the year was 1923.  The bottom, more readable portion translates: “Glorious heroes, your name be blessed forever from the children does not degenerate beautiful home with your blood Bedenta”

Tom was particularly attracted to this entrance.