Stealthily, I opened a wire metal gate and crept through a farm yard, passing just a few feet from the front door of an old wooden cabin constructed from wide wooden planks, dovetailed together without the aid of nails. Ruby-red tomatoes were bursting their skins and green-black zucchini hung heavy on their vines. With only one paved road, I relied on footpaths that wandered through gardens overflowing with colossal heads of cabbage and fat ears of golden-tasseled corn. But my arrival was timed perfectly – temperatures had moderated to the mid-70’s, perfect walking weather. A week earlier the village of Breb, Romania, had been sweltering in a heat wave that caused wells to run dry. ![]() Puffy white clouds drifted lazily across the sky, allowing the sun to peek through just enough to make the afternoon comfortably warm. ![]() From the lush green floor of the valley I gazed toward the encircling dusky blue mountains.
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