I often stand on the little bridge at the end of our lane mesmerised by the Corsonna river. In summer, it is nothing more than a rivulet, where the sunlight peeping between the branches of the overhanging trees, sends silver darts into the water dancing among the rocks. Our guests at Art Toscana, painting holidays in Italy, often walk down the lane from Val di Pozza to catch this pretty scene with their sketch pads, charcoal and water colour pencils.
It’s a different scene in winter. The force of the water gushing under the bridge is so violent, you can hear the boulders on the river bed being hauled along. It sounds like the crashing of thunder.
