It belonged to the “Signorina,” as everyone called the noblewoman Giuliana Ponticelli, the queen and owner of one of the most beautiful territories in the Maremma: Torre Trappola, its name coming from the fortress and the trap door used to safeguard the river port near the mouth of the River Ombrone.
A natural and almost magical paradise, known as "Spiaggia dei Capanni" (hut beach), skimmed by the water and dotted with pine groves, swamps, coastal lakes, rushes, daffodils and a beach. A strip of uncontaminated land that this woman, resolute and alone, defended and preserved, loving it enthusiastically and where still today Maremma horses continue to roam free.
There’s not much to say about my work; it was something I was able to do, even if it wasn’t easy. She said with rough simplicity to those who praised her work. I possess a treasure, but I’m not just its guardian and I can’t deny, especially to those from the Maremma, that I do enjoy what for centuries has belonged to them.
Here, among arid lands, the Ombrone ends its course and at the mouth, the river’s energy calms down as the sea welcomes it, with an intensity of hues that intersect and blend together in small mounds, lakes and slopes behind the dunes. A world teaming with life, where salt and fresh waters mix and where many varieties of birds and animals rest, hibernate, nest and feed.
A wonderful place that is increasingly rare in these times, the archetype of Maremma, where the evocative contact of the coastal pine groves thins out among the dunes that lay just before the immense golden beach of Principina a Mare, where the sea and the river playfully scatter natural sculptures about during winter storms.
Every year, the twisted trunks, smoothed from the waves, a dishevelled forest, dried and whitened by the sun, are used to make huts. They seem as if they are lookout posts that watch over the sea, united to form a mane along the coast of the Parco della Maremma, which opens like an arch, framing Castiglione della Pescaia and Argentario, far from the sandy shores peppered with coloured beach umbrellas, beach chairs and seaside resorts.
Severed branches of rough and spongy white wood, scattered about as they wait for the creative flair of a passerby to make them into something more, to transform them into simple and fleeting huts.
A sort of enchanted village, built during this annual activity by a tribe of true dreamers rediscovering what it means to be young through creativity.
An encampment of tepees created for daydreaming, observing, reading, writing, listening to music relaxing or practicing self-care through deep contact with nature.
Secluded shelters on long, sunny days, places of imagination and inspiration, decorated and adored with seaside details drenched in dried salt, eroded by the waves and carved by nature’s imagination, surprising us with their unexpected forms. Like when the sun descends into the sea, lighting up the noblewoman’s Eden with tinges of red, a land bequeathed to all those who enjoy losing themselves under the spell of this evocative place secluded from the world.