March 31
Buona Pasqua! In Umbria it was sunny and warm all day. I hiked to the top of Monte Acuto with Elisabeth, Barbara and Joan (the Beebee sisters). We saw wildflowers all along the lower trail (before the steep, rocky part kicked in) -- pale green hellebores, purple violets and lemon yellow primula. We ran into an insect oddity - a long, line of caterpillars, maybe 25 or 30, walking nose to behind, single file along the trail. If you held one up from the march, the entire line stopped and began head bobbing, looking for their lost brethren. Most interesting. Since I was the one experimenting with them, Elizabeth was kind enough to warn me that they inflict a nasty bite. Evidently, her Italian tutor's dog learned this first hand.
Monte Acuto was a sacred place for the ancient Etruscans. There are two partially excavated sites on the mountain and a few tombs in the general vicinity. All that is left of the sites on Acuto are rock piles and old walls. I'm not sure if they were temples, tombs or what. Most likely, sites of religious worship, or so I am told. We don't know much about the Etruscans... our mysterious, lost civilization. All the more intriguing.
We took the hike slow so no one passed out. About ½ way up we stopped for a picnic lunch overlooking the valley. (Hard-boiled eggs, fresh asparagus, cannellini bean salad, bread, fresh pecorino cheese, fresh kiwi and little plum cakes drizzled with orange liqueur.) Joan and Barbara were headed on to the next leg of their trip tomorrow -- Florence and Venice. I'll miss exploring with them.
At the top of the mountain, we had 350-degree views of Umbria: Umbertide and the mountains of the Marche to the east, Niccone and Tuscany to the north, Lake Trasimeno to the west and Monte Tezio, Assisi and MY HOUSE to the south. (That is right, I could actually see my house!) There were so many back roads and farms below that I never knew were there... out of the way spots hidden in the hills above and behind us.
We decided to go off trail on our return, cutting across the sheep-denuded hilside. Acuto is steep and bigger than she looks. We were tired and a little crazed. Must take direct line to car, regardless of what lies ahead. After the hike, suitably winded and rubbery-legged, we drove into Umbertide and treated ourselves to gelato and a relaxed moment in the piazza. For inquiring minds, I had chocolate and strawberry.
When I got home, after a cup of tea and a meander around the property (animals in tow), I made dinner and ate al fresco under my pergola (which is covered with pale pink clematis). It was a balmy evening, and the scent of lilacs surrounds the house. Spring is such an abundant season, rich in colors and scents. Such a welcomed relief after being cooped up during winter.
March 27, 2002
Well, we went from 70° to snow in 24 hours this past weekend. It's still chilly, but there was no frost, so the plants are all right. Martha was up from Rome this weekend so we could mow the property and go over the spring plans. Luccia, the woman who does the cleaning here, brought Martha a rabbit. (Ready for the pot, not the pen.) We invited Elizabeth up for dinner and Martha made a delicious Rabbit alla Romana. We made a raging fire in the hearth and sat back to toast ourselves. Elizabeth decided to sleep over, so the next morning I made waffles! They were so light I could have eaten them all day. Just as Elizabeth was leaving, we looked up and saw all these petals blowing down from the sky. They kept on blowing and blowing until it struck me... my god, its snow. We had about an hour of hard blowing flurries before it stopped. Nothing stuck to the ground but it was a sad reminder that the warm weather is not here to stay. Drat. But, in the midst of snow and chill, my lilacs are blooming!
One day last week I had a magical moment while gardening. Elizabeth and I were up at Pancesi planting primula. It was warm and sunny with a slight breeze. The wind picked up a bit and suddenly the oak leaves came down, fluttering towards us across the yard. The curtain of leaves lasted only a moment or two but we stood there facing into it, as you do your first snow. Elizabeth called them "coins raining down on us". It reminded me of the dying Cyrano de Bergerac describing the autumn leaves "a short way from the branch to the dust, but a fall that seems like flying."
March 22
An adventure day! Recently, I met two women who have been staying in Umbertide since January. Barbara and Joan are sisters in their 60s maybe. Barbara is an artist originally making jewelry, now painting. She lives on a small island in Maine reachable only by boat. A year rounder, Barbara's the old farmhouse has no heat and no running water. She chops wood for the stove, for the hot water, for the heat. Joan was a social worker. Now she is a traveler with no set home. Both women are very interesting and interested in new things. We planned an outing to a family of basket weavers and a family who owns a famous textile business. Talk about contrasts.
The Luzzi family has a local reputation for artisan basketry. We drove up to an old schoolhouse to find two old men and three young women twisting, weaving and forming all manner of cane, rush and rope containers. Their workroom was strewn with clipped ends of cane, lengths of bamboo, wooden forms and reed. When we asked to see what they had available to buy, a woman marched us up stone steps to a second floor classroom stacked high with waste baskets, trays, bottle covers, mats, handle baskets, wood baskets, picnic baskets, wine baskets, ad infinitum. It was very low tech, authentic old style weaving. Much less a shop than a work room, with the Luzzis, head down, focused on their fingers and the lengths of cane. As visitors, we were a product of their basket weaving, nothing more.
Next, we visited the factory and shop of the Busatti family, who have been making fine fabric for generations. They own an entire building that houses the factory, the shop and the family. The Busatti's gave us a tour of the machinery and looms -- threads of all colors winding about and chugging through the looms. The looms run on a sort of punch card computerization, functioning somewhat independently. Passing one room, I saw something that looked like it should be labeled the world's largest bobbin. On the way up to the shop, we passed shelves and shelves of fabrics in rich colors: bolts of stripes, florals and brocades. Local women, working from their homes, do all the handwork - the trim, edging and lacework. In the shop, Mrs. Busatti showed us a clip book of all the magazine layouts in which the family linens have appeared. There was even a copy of a thank you note from Frances Mayes (Under the Tuscan Sun) -- evidently a satisfied customer. The Busattis have set up a series of show rooms to display kitchen, dining room, and bedroom linens and accessories. I love the artifice... perfectly appointed bedrooms and bathrooms like full-sized dollhouses.
If that were not enough for one day, on the way home we stopped for dinner at a local Cappuccini monastery. Roughly seven dollars bought a family style, all you can eat dinner with the friars. With wine. It wasn't haute cuisine, but a more unusual dinner I do not think I've had. The food was hearty, healthy, and abundant. It was Friday, so the theme was fish. Pasta with a tomato/tuna sauce, roasted eggplant, cannelini beans, smoked fish, baked fish, salad, bread, wine and fresh tangerines for dessert. After the meal, the father superior came by to visit with us and practice his English skills. He was most sweet and charming, offering us coffee. I demurred, but he cajoled me into having hot chocolate. Before we left, he brought us postcards of the monastery and its paintings. A unique experience.
March 15
Gray and rainy today! We've had a slow, steady drizzle falling on and off all day. I love it. Overcast days coax out color in the landscape that sun washes away. Driving home over the hill, the colors were rich... the warm brown of the oak leaves against the deep green of the ginestra, the stark black lines of oak trunks and the bright white blooms of the spino bianco. This simple color palette covers the hills in varying patterns. An arc of white against the brown oaks high on a slope... a smattering of white along the road amongst the ginestra. Everywhere there is a photo op. Only a professional can do this justice -- it's so subtle.
Every day, sunny or gray, holds out some beauty. I felt the same way in San Francisco. There was always something to make me smile. In SF it was often the deep blue of the twilight sky against Twin Peaks making silhouettes of all the trees and houses. That luminous cobalt sky... I've always wanted a dress that color, the color of twilight.
I have the weekend off. You won't be too surprised if I spend it at home, puttering about and enjoying the solitude? I anticipate lounging in bed with a cup of tea and a book, surrounded by cats. Then maybe a morning of gardening, weather permitting. There are garlic and peas to be planted. In the afternoon, I hope to take the dogs out for a big walk. They have been looking wistfully at the gate, bored with the same old yard, same old view, same old cars to bark at. The hounds need new smells, new doggie fantasies to sustain them. Perhaps a hike down to the ghost house, though the road is on the dark side of the hill, and it gives me a bit of the creeps when I am alone. Maybe we'll stick to the south side of the hill instead. A romp in the fields...
This week I am reading Mary McCarthy's Memories of a Catholic Childhood, Nicholson Baker's Vox, and Stephen Hawking's Black Holes and Baby Universes. Finally, email issues resolved and back on line.
March 8
ANNOUNCEMENT: I am having trouble accessing my email. A number of messages are stacking up to send (and would love to see what you have sent me) but cannot get into my email account (since Wed). The gateway keeps timing out. I'm working on a solution but have no idea how long this will take. Be patient... and remember that you can always call!
A request... Although I love to get fun messages, please do not send me large files. I connect at around 28.8... At KPMG I had the bandwidth to accept almost anything. Here anything large blows me out of the cyber-water. Thanks.
March 7
I have an official job. Elizabeth has hired me to be her assistant gardener. So far this week I spent 10 hours planting, digging and manuring at a number of homes, including Pancesi (woohoo!) getting La Pietra ready for guests.
La Pietra (for those who do not know) is the house that started this whole Italian adventure for me. About 2 years ago, I rented the house for 3 weeks. I am not exaggerating in saying the experience was transformational. This came at a time when I was tired and disenchanted with the pace of my life, the direction my job was taking -- everything. After vacation, I returned to SF and gave my boss one years notice, saying that I would be moving to Italy. No job, no plans... just finito.
It wasn't just about Italy. The catalyst was La Pietra. A simple stone and wood house changed my life. Not an everyday occurrence. Maybe it's the location -- perched on a hilltop overlooking the valley in a sweeping panorama. Yet the house and grounds feel so intimate. It's the catbird's seat overlooking the world. The road to the house is long and wooded. The garden is a small Mediterranean melange of olives, lavender, rosemary, and sage with pots of red geraniums at every window. A red trumpet vine climbs the kitchen wall, roses arch over the windows and around the corners, wisteria covers the pergola. I cannot put my finger on what it is, but I felt it again working up there today.
La Pietra was the short term respite that offered the distance (and the comfort) to see my life more clearly -- to begin to see what I needed to change. It's such a peaceful place. While turning soil and planting primula, I was overcome with the desire to stay again -- to spend three weeks enjoying the quiet (and the pool). Funny, isn't it? I am living on a lovely, large property with extensive gardens and a pool. But La Pietra still owns a little piece of my heart. Maybe I lived there (very happily) in a past life. Luckily, much of my summer work will be up there in the nest.
If you are thinking about visiting this area and want to stay at a great place, check out at La Pietra or the other properties handled by its group, at www.altabella.com. You'll also find links to Amore Sapore's cooking classes.
March 5
We have still not gotten that last frost. I'm almost ready to believe that spring is here for real. The daffodils are up in tussocks of yellow all around the garden. Everything is budding. The grass is almost as high as an elephant's eye. My fava beans and peas have sprung up. The past few days I've been working in the garden hoeing the weeds back to get ready for the new plantings. I'm overeager. I'll add more peas, garlic and nasturtiums first. And I'll ready the new herb garden. The buddleia is pruned back and in the next couple weeks I'll start seeds -- alyssum, larkspur, sweet peas, 4 o'clocks, Love in a Puff and various wild flowers. It looks like another very dry year is coming. You may hear I've bankrupted myself watering the plants with bottled water.
Martha brought me one of her kittens from Rome; a black tortoiseshell called Puzilla (little stinker in Italian). Carlina, the old cat, has migrated back to Rome where she can sleep indoors all day. My remaining two cats here are adjusting slowly -- lots of shocked stares and hissing, but no casualties so far. Putzilla is stubborn and fearless (some might say clueless) ignoring all their objections. Last night Romana was sleeping on my lap. The kitten leaped on board and snuggled in, oblivious to the snarling older cat. Romana, horrified but not in the mood to give up "her" lap, growled and hissed, and fell back to sleep with the kitten curled up on her. (Putzilla is sitting next to my laptop as I type, purring.)
March 3
A long silence, eh? Most of February I was a vacation back in the US. (A vacation from my vacation?) I spent a week on the east coast and a week on the west coast, and all of it too short. I reunited with friends, family and felines. Everyone looked great except Dagmar. The cat is beautiful but does not handle stress well. She has been licking her fur off and now looks like a lunatic with a shaver has attacked her hindquarters. Poor thing. (I don't think there is any serious harm but she looks ridiculous.)
SF felt so peacefully familiar to me. My apartment (leaks and all) looked warm and welcoming. My neighborhood was still as eclectic and fun as ever. A few new places had opened, but the old haunts were still the same. In my SF week I partook of Indian food, Thai food, Vietnamese food, sushi, Mexican food and a good home cooked 'merican meal (roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, salad and cake). I visited my local supermarket more times than I'd like to admit, with a mixture of sentimental nostalgia and glee -- (Oh, they've added a natural foods aisle! Look, they've moved pet foods over here! Wow, the deli section has changed!) I would never suggest that Safeway is the "be all - end all" of food shopping. Open markets of fresh produce and handmade brooms do beat supermarkets. However, having everything you need in one 24-hour place has loads of charm. And, there was turmeric, sour cream, maple syrup and all that Easter candy beckoning. (Marshmallow peeps are not an Easter staple in Italy. Neither are those heinous pink snowball cakes -- which is a blessing and a disappointment.) The weather in SF was unseasonably lovely -- even the rainstorm on the first day.
Had a great impromptu lunch with Tacy... Lulu's for mussels, salads, beer and great talks. Our charming Italian waiter charmed us into a grappa tasting that included a strawberry grappa and a $25 a glass of grappa. (The Ferrari of grappas.) Tacy is going to talk me into started a small import business to bring her Italian shoes.
Sally and I were driving through SF and ran into the Chinese New Year parade -- lots of color and fluttering fabrics, marching bands, martial arts groups and dragons -- many dragons. We saw one dragon of small children, little heads popping up from the dorsal spines, walking down a side street. That is when I experienced enlightenment. I miss the diversity of the US. Seeing Mexican, African American and Asian people on the street was a delight. Being able to go out for Thai and Indian food... sushi! This takes nothing away from the Italians or the time I'm spending here. Italy is a beautiful country with an old way of life -- very different from my experience. But it is predominantly Italian. Sure, there are a few Chinese restaurants, but they're not authentic... more Italianized Chinese, like the local Chinese restaurants I went to as a kid -- two steps from Chun King. (The Chinese Chef Boy-ar-dee.)
2002
