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The Park

Once upon a time there was an unmarried uncle who travelled around the world. He was an agronomist who loved the plants as much as Statella.

Every essence of the wood, every tree or bush that enchanted him became part of an ambitious project:

The country-house that country- house in which styles, shrubs and flowers are interlaced, and that now is our jewel, the most perfect testimony we inherited.

The trees grew fighting duels to capture the light, the soil, the nourishment. The winners of this secular battle are those that better adapted themselves those that would to live. They are the victors that nowadays allow us to be proud of an enviable park. Little walls of box-wood divide pines and eucalyptuses from berries whose leafy branches interweave with the imposing araucaria. Neighboring with the yew. Oaks and Cedars alternate along a path that flows into green lands. The little white roses belonging to the ancient shrub fill the air with their delicate scent, and climb on wooden beam that adorn the bare patch. Opposite, the mimosa invade the flower-beds and bow in front of the elegance of Judas tree, its deeply pink flowers interweave with the wooden coniferous.

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