I arrived here together with the swallows, hoopoes and almond blossom. Flurries of snow whirled past as the boxes, bags and backpacks emptied and the drawers and cupboards filled. The snow passed, I remained. So this is where I now call home, a small hilltop village in Italy’s Marsica region, in the most central part of the central Apennines in central Italy, a marine creature washed up as far from the sea as it gets in peninsula Italy, last lapped by the waves in the Mesozoic. And that’s a very long time ago indeed.

As Spring struggles to shrug off the last chills of a winter determined to hang on until the bitter end, I’ll be here in this land of limestone, juniper scrub and downy oak woods, exploring new paths under the stern scrutiny of the Velino massif. Doors close and doors open.