United States or Jamaica ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Then came the row of giant peaks Pitz d'Aela, Tinzenhorn, and Michelhorn, above the deep ravine of Albula all seen across wide undulating golden swards, close-shaven and awaiting winter. Carnations hung from cottage windows in full bloom, casting sharp angular black shadows on white walls. Italiam petimus! We have climbed the valley of the Julier, following its green, transparent torrent.
You may travel for hours and days amidst vast forests and hills without the slightest sensation of pleasure or sense of admiration for the scene, till suddenly your path leads you out on to the dizzy brink of an awful precipice a sheer fall, so exaggerated in horror that your most stirring memories of Mont Blanc, the Jungfrau, and the hideous arête of the Pitz Bernina, sink into vague insignificance.
Then came the row of giant peaks Pitz d'Aela, Tinzenhorn, and Michelhorn, above the deep ravine of Albula all seen across wide undulating golden swards, close-shaven and awaiting winter. Carnations hung from cottage windows in full bloom, casting sharp angular black shadows on white walls. Italiam petimus! We have climbed the valley of the Julier, following its green, transparent torrent.
Then come the purple boulders among chestnut trees; then the double dolomite-like peak of Pitz Badin and Promontogno. It is sad that words can do even less than painting could to bring this window-scene at Promontogno before another eye. The casement just frames it.
Pitz Palu shoots aloft like sculptured marble, delicately veined with soft aërial shadows of translucent blue. At the summit of the pass all Italy seems to burst upon the eyes in those steep serried ranges, with their craggy crests, violet-hued in noonday sunshine, as though a bloom of plum or grape had been shed over them, enamelling their jagged precipices.
Then come the purple boulders among chestnut trees; then the double dolomite-like peak of Pitz Badin and Promontogno. It is sad that words can do even less than painting could to bring this window-scene at Promontogno before another eye. The casement just frames it.
At half-past eight next morning, the sun was rising from behind Pitz Languard, as we crossed the Inn and drove through Pontresina in the glorious light, with all its huge hotels quite empty and none but a few country-folk abroad. Those who only know the Engadine in summer have little conception of its beauty.
Word Of The Day