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When holy souls get going

There’s a saying in the place where I grew up, “When the holy souls get going…”, that’s used to describe an unexpected bout of bad weather, especially when you have planned to go somewhere.
This is a play on the fact that saints should be accompanied by bright light and pleasant colors when they manifest – but you decided to go somewhere, and now it’s pouring, or snowing or something.

In the last 36 hours various parts of Piedmont were hit by hailstorms that left the streets choked with ice. And here in the Valley of the Belbo, black clouds have been piling up since early this morning.

“It was for tonight, right?” my brother asked, referring to our planned Microadventure.
“Tonight, yeah,” I said.
And it started raining like there was no tomorrow.

So, it’s for another night.
The plan is to do a circuit among the hills, on foot, leaving somewhere around 7 pm and walk up past the graveyard and the old chapel, and then up to the plateau where my family used to have some land. It’s only vineyards up there, but about six kms from the village is a country-style roadhouse/pub that’s open late into the night. The idea is to get there, have a bite and a drink, and then start down on the other side, finding a nice place to look at the stars and do some night photography, and then be back home by dawn.

But not tonight – it’s raining so much a couple of giraffes stopped by to ask for directions, and the road to the old chapel is a waterfall.
When holy souls get going…

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