The hills roll behind Vatican city; the dome of Basilica of Saint Peter, can be seen in the distance peaking above the forest's tree line, only to become a speck, reaching toward a brilliant blue sky, so clear one can almost see God.

 The forest beyond yawns and stretches in all different directions, enjoying its solitude.  The quiet morning now awake, yet still sleepy, is drenched with the sweet aroma of the vineyards that lay beyond.

Deep plump purple grapes, covered in morning dew, spread over the land like a solid blanket of green vines.  Olive groves provide shade and a sweet haven from the sun for lizards and toads.  Butterflies flutter and bees hum from one flower to the next.

Squirrels, most playful this time of day, race and jut in and out of their moss and wood covered homes. Orchid patches carpet the hillside under a canopy of beech and fir trees.  Even shy Marsican brown bears come out to wrestle and play.

...The day is anew.

 Deeper into the forest, nature, now fully awake, shies away from the depth in this part of the forest.  The woodlands grow even darker.  Sunlight cannot penetrate this bleakness.  Whispering pine shrubs with their long stiff needles stand erect like sentinels