From Penna mount to the Po river through 100 images and 4 seasons

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The river crosses times and places, with its relentless pace and incessant murmuring: it pushes, digs, moves and seeks its way, overcoming every obstacle with obstinate stubbornness.

The river is a trusted friend, with a slightly moody character, which must be indulged, but it is a sure presence always there to welcome you, always willing to listen to your thoughts, to share your moods, always ready to surprise you and to brighten your day with a smile, a surprise, a gift.

He is also wise, of an ancient wisdom, which does not change opinion or values with the turning of the wind, always faithful to itself, always the same but always different and changing, like the appearance of life: it runs and advances without it will run after ephemeral modernity, as is the custom for every man worthy of bearing this name, giving witness to it with his living course.

The river is never alone, the river is a king with all his court and his army, always lined up on its sides: a thousand and a thousand trees, and an arsenal of a thousand and a thousand stones and rams of all shapes and sizes. But he is not belligerent, after all he is a good-natured, even if every now and then he demands his sacrificial victim, often chosen from the ranks of the imprudent, therefore always the utmost respect for his majesty !

The river passes through seasons and landscapes, offering beauty lessons in every place and time, free lessons always available for anyone who wants to go there to listen, to watch. He is a great teacher who speaks all languages, the personal language of each of us, just undress, put your soul bare, and listen.

The river is also generous, the river gives, at least to me, a lot of gifts: the river gives emotions, peace, discoveries, silences, spaces, shapes, colors, encounters, lights, thoughts, dialogues and many, many other things that cannot be found on supermarket shelves, simply because they are not things that can be packaged and would still have no price, even if I'm sure someone is already working on it!

This King was born from the belly of the great mountain sacred to the Gods, Mount Penna, home of the ancient god Pèn of Celtic memories, but it is useless to run up to look for the sacred sources, the noble origins, you will never find them, you would get lost in a intricate maze of elusive streams of water that suddenly disappear in the heart of the forest.

There is a strange place on the mountain, called "the ship of Pen", it is a glacial basin with a shape that resembles the keel of a ship, perhaps foreshadowing the long water journey to the river that is about to give birth, or rather to the two rivers, because the underground aquifer that generates the Taro, on the opposite side of the mountain generates another river, the Ceno, two brothers with different destinies, but destined to meet again, each having their own experiences.

All these streams that gush out in the shadow of the forest seek each other out, find each other and join forces to create an energy that launches itself into an enthusiastic and bubbling race, and as they run down the run, perhaps because some bad-tongue has told them that over there there is a show called the sea, they convince many other streams to join them until it becomes a beautiful river, very respectable, with a somewhat impetuous and moody character that can make a big voice (Taro comes from a Celtic word that it means indomitable) and it happens that every now and then, angry and nervous, you throw down a few bridges, so, as a demonstration action, to make it clear who is in charge here !

In its whirling race between the mountains, which try to put sticks between his feet, the river creates, sculpts and shapes giving life to that sublime art of nature called "landscape", but never works alone, always asks for help from four her very creative and imaginative friends, who always collaborate willingly, on one condition, however: that of never staying together in the same place. You know, everyone has the character of her, and even the seasons would end up quarreling if all together.

Shortly before Fornovo, the two brothers separated at birth meet for the first time and merge in an incestuous embrace, now it is no longer time to run, they have a lot of things to tell each other and experiences to share, so they calmly dedicate themselves to embroider the landscape in a myriad of small and suggestive environments, weaving a beautiful colored tapestry, to which each one contributes with their own experiences.

It is in this stretch that the rivers reach their maximum width, creating a whole variety of environmental niches that offer hospitality to a great variety of fixed and mobile creatures (plants and animals), we could say, hoping not to offend anyone up there, that here the two rivers become one big river again, it is the place and the moment of maturity, and from this union a small, very small replica of the spectacle of the creation is born: a small terrestrial garden that houses the codes of beauty: shady and fragrant groves , ponds, ponds and swamps, mosaics of stones and sand, checkered carpets of herbs and flowers, and the green and blue waters of the river that seem to pass the time playing in Shanghai with the trunks of the trees.

Unfortunately, where there is a garden, there is always someone who goes to piss in it, it is a weed species that has long taken root on this planet and that seems to have the sole purpose of bothering ! Hordes of scientists are still trying to decipher its behavior, even if for now they are still groping in the dark.

After passing the town of Ponte Taro, the river is now heading towards the third age, after a lot of work it has lost its youthful impetuosity, and like an elegant lady of a certain age, to still attract attention to itself, it begins to sway , moving between sinuous bends and high grassy banks, with a placid and serene course, without noise. Here his bed is getting smaller and smaller, because man's activities are getting wider and wider, and you know, where there is man there is exploitation, control, rules and boundaries to be respected, embankments, hulls that scratch your surface. , nets and mechanical arms that rummage inside you without any shame !

But by now he has become wise and forgiving, he has learned the lesson of "letting go", he knows that there are many men and that they are always hungry, so he becomes collaborative, he lets himself be harnessed and is satisfied with the narrow spaces between the high banks, space leaves it to men to cultivate their fields, or rather to gladly give a hand to quench the thirst of all those tingling crops. But we must not forget the angry soul that flows in its waters, because even if apparently placid and dormant, he always remains a great proud King with a martial temperament, and when they turn him, he doesn't give a damn about the banks, and he goes where he wants !