Alpine roses, July rain . . . The Alps. For many years, during June and the beginning of July,
I used to carefully cut and tie together little bundles of alpine roses and sell them to tourists
visiting the mountains. It's about a two hour trek from the nearest road to this uninhabited valley.
All one hears is the sound of rushing water; all one smells is the cinnamon spice aroma of
the alpine roses (a kind of Rhododendron.) Hard to imagine a place so lost in time, and
in the very center of Europe at that!
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emerging . . .
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Photograph by Cliff Crego © 2004 picture-poems.com