From My House in Makrinitsa Downward After Rain

Rain-darkened tiles and plaster cascade down from Makrinitsa, rooftop by rooftop, toward the valley below.

There’s a quietness to the light, a feeling of everything breathing after the rain. From up here, the view tumbles down the hillside. The stone walls and tiled roofs are so close, and then the houses spill away toward the hills until they just dissolve into a pale blue mist. The warm ochre of the plaster feels solid against the damp slate. And look at the paint itself—how it’s laid on thick and dry for the stone, then softens in the distant sky. The light is so gentle, with no hard shadows, just this soft gleam on the wet tiles. The whole scene holds the cool, clean hush that settles over a hillside once the last drops have fallen.