The following piece by Ken Wright was an in class writing assignment. After our Fine Arts evening at Plush Mills there were a number of paintings done by residents left in the great room after the event. I asked the writers to pick one and write about it in any form they choose.
I was driving through Tuscany in the fall of ’76. It had never looked so beautiful – with green fields alternated by dark vermillion fields and soft, brown waves of grain.
As I rounded a turn, a strikingly white Villa rose out of the hills. It shimmered in the still, warm sun. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I pulled over to take a photograph, got out of the car and suddenly a huge truck, loaded down with old cars, came around the bend on my side of the road and headed straight at me.
For a moment I stood rooted in one spot. Seconds before I was hit I dived off the road and the truck flashed past.
“Whew. That was close,” I thought. When I looked up the white Villa had disappeared. If I hadn’t stopped to take that picture, the truck would have hit me straight on. Wow!
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