La Storia


The farmhouse was built in the late XIX century and it was a place were the farmers, exhausted by long days of hard work, went to have a nice and earned rest. From 1905, until 1980, it became the main house of the Mascitti family. Afterwards, the place was abandoned for many years, until the new Mascitti family (Germana, Antonio, Marco and Sara) decided to save the historical property from the destructive power of time and began a fine, long, dedicated work of renovation. Every inch, every stone, every single piece was refined to maintain and keep alive, throughout the centuries, the hard work of the men who built the farmhouse with nothing more than strength and heart. During all those years, the house has crossed many times its path with major and relevant historical events; one, in particular, has left visible marks: the second World War. In the autumn of 1943, after the siege of the city, the property was taken by a group of german soldiers, who forced its inhabitants to leave. Pages of history were written inside Casale905. Generations and generations of hard-working, honest, humble, heartful people: those are the roots of the country house. The renovation comes from a deep passion for historical research and the strong will to preserve the values of a forgotten past. It is born from the desire and hope that everyone, in those rooms, may find a hidden part of themselves, far away from the noise of our everyday life.



(from the unreleased book “The old house”) “.. here, in this old, forsaken house, among the pieces of plaster, I come across some furniture; inside them, I find many aged school notebooks and documents, with their shy and unsecure handwriting. On my right, I see an ancient loom, first-hand witness of thousands of hours of work, and everywhere I turn a strong smell of hay reaches me and reminds me of forgotten summertime memories. Now, I get close to the fireplace and I look around me: I notice the round walls, smoothened by the cows, and, in my imagination, everything comes alive. Moving forward, my senses reveal in advance the cellar nearby, the place that jealously keeps delicious, reddish barrels of Montepulciano. Moving upstairs, I pass by some wide rooms and, suddenly, it strikes me: those rooms saw the birth of many, many children. I open the windows and I take a deep breath: the scent of the wet land, soaked by the rain, inebriates me, and my sight locks on the cloudy sky, far away, among the Maiella and the Gran Sasso. Then, moving straight, I reach a new bedroom and realize its original aim: it was the grandparents’ room, and of the parents before them. A smell of clean laundry and lavender (from the flowers-covered balcony) fulfills my senses, and the fine bed sheet catches my eye with its intricate work of embroidery. Upstairs, I reach the bridal’s chamber, and I realize that the crumbled plaster is hiding some beautiful stones.. Too amazing to pass unnoticed. I sit on the border of an old bed and look around me.. In the silence, I can feel the present and the past coming together, and I can perceive the unstoppable rush of time, whose steps are made visible only by its visible tracks. These walls retain acts, words, smells and sounds. The people who have lived there have thought, have taken difficult decisions, have experienced profound happiness and vitriolic sadness. The walls keep a piece of the living souls. Everything here tastes like eternity…”


IMG_8388 Mascitti's family, last generazion

Hereby lies the fine candor of genuineness.