JULY 2003

July 1
I clearly sleep late, and when I go outside to water I see a little straw hat bobbing near the pomodori. It is Felice, and he is tying up the pomodori and checking them out. I walk over to him and tell him about Candida slinging her blue potion on the leaves. He nods and tells me that is very good. I tell him I am "preoccupata" (busy worring) that the liquid is a chemical and that the pomodori are no longer biological. He screws his face up and tells me that what Candida did is very good. The bottom leaves on many of the plants are brown and curled up. It is too late to worry anyway.

I twist two gigantic zucchini off their stems and plan to stuff them later with sausage and ricotta and other good things. Everyone here tries to give their zucchini away, it is so plentiful. Perhaps we will start to pick the flowers and let the zucchini themselves just turn to compost. The eggplant seems to be reviving, magari. I want to be sure to get Prue's recipe for cold eggplant soup soon.

Roy pulls out several of the older heads of lattuga, and preps the ground to plant seeds of rughetta (arugula). We can't seem to buy the slips anywhere, but have been told it only takes ten days for them to sprout. Roy waters the ground and makes a little roof with nursery cloth and sticks. His little roof looks like it is a miniature campsite. Roy is very resourceful and seems to enjoy this planting business.

Tonight there is a town meeting with the sindaco. We had planned to go, but changed our minds. We will understand very little of what is said. Most of the conversation will be about Bomarzo, so we drive by and decide not to stop.

Later on the terrace over cocktails, we hear drums in the distance. The beating is the beat of medieval drummers, practicing for a festa. Roy thinks the natives are restless, and that the townspeople of Bomarzo are unhappy with the results of the meeting. This is their way of striking. I think I am listening to an old western movie. It is dark and surreal.

July 2
A real breeze greets me when I walk out the door this morning. The air feels fresh and fragrant. Late in the morning, after we water all the plants and all the vegetables, eat breakfast and do a few things inside, we take our books out to the lavender garden and read on lounge chairs under the caki tree. There are a few clouds. Perhaps it will rain later. Although it is very warm again, the breeze and occasional clouds beckon us outside to relax.

The breeze, which comes from the southwest turns into a whirling gust and then dies down. We hear unfamiliar noises this morning. First, on the road down below us near Via Mola, affectionately called "Via Puzza" (dirty water) because it is lowland and near the river, a piece of machinery seems to drag the strada bianca. Perhaps the road will soon be paved. Later, when we sit under the caki tree, Roy draws my attention to a tractor up high below the top of the ridge near Michelle's road and behind the village cemetery. Someone is clearing the road, perhaps for a house site or to extend the unpaved street up there, or both.

Does this foretell the winds of change? Now that we are settled here, we so wish things would stay the same. No development. No American school. No strangers buying houses and properties in the village. But now that last night's town meeting has finished, we wonder if new permits have been granted. Bless each moment. Bless each day. We never know when things will change.

July 3
We go to yoga class in Attigliano. There are eight ragazzi here, including us. The new students do not speak English. Catherine speaks in both English and Italian, and thanks to her husband, who speaks several languages fluently and stands with his mat in the front row, she is able to do an admirable job. At the end, her words touch me. "I honor the divinity in you" is the phrase she ends this session with. Taking yoga once a week is a real treat for us. Now that grade school is out for the year, class is held in a space that Roy thinks is a former sewing factory, just across the street from the post office. The back doors open with rollup shades facing a garden, and there is a welcome cool breeze.

Before Shelly leaves at the end of class, I ask her what is going on at the end of her road. She thinks they are repairing the water tower, and tells us that Claudio drove up there to see. We doubt that, so Shelly will send him back, and if there is a development going in there, Shelly will get us involved in petitioning the commune to deny a permit to build. We hope that will not be necessary. Last night Paola Fosci came by to deliver airplane tickets and said that she will ask, but does not know of anything being built on the ridge behind the cemetery.

In the afternoon, I sit in a lounge chair under the small caki tree and try to read. I am so relaxed from the yoga session and from just sitting there that I nod off as much as I read. The birds chirp endlessly, and thankfully the cicadas are not doing their noisy scratching near my head. I am imagining Sofi nosing around and sleeping at my feet and just being a happy puppy. This is a great place to raise a puppy.

Roy comes out and tells me that he wants to go to Amelia to refill the bombola. We take off and are able to do the errand in less than two minutes once we are on the main shopping street. A stop at the nearby gelateria and then we spot a poster for the Amelia bocce tournament next week. Of course we get in the car and drive to the bocce court, which is on the back side of Amelia inside the walled medieval town.

We park and walk down to the two courts. We can hear the men laughing and talking from around the corner. Roy really wants to play, but now we take a look at how they play. Rules change from area to area, and we find that they do not use the sidewalls of the court. The walls are "off limits". I think that means that if you use the wall to roll your ball, your ball is marked "dead". Roy often bounced his ball off the sidewall or used the wall to help angle the ball as it rolled toward the palino in San Rafael. Not here.

The men are exactly what you would expect. The youngest is about sixty five. The oldest is about eighty. We watch about twelve men play on two courts, and there is not a bad player in the bunch. One thin little man in overalls two sizes too big squats down to aim and someone tells him to "give the palino a hug". Some of the men take two balls at once, and Roy tells me he thinks that is for balance. Most of the men are in t-shirts, but one is so neatly dressed in blue shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt and gold chain around his neck that he wipes the ball off before he rolls it with a paper towel. There are a lot of stories on these courts, and we hope to learn a few if we come back to watch often.

The courts look as though they are made of a combination of clay and sand. There is a large roller nearby, and it is clear that the men take excellent care of the courts. One man in each court has a long metal rod, which extends out when a measure is called for. The man who measures does not play here, but he uses his shoe to clear the court of dimples created by aggressive ball handlers who bounce the ball onto the court to break up the arrangement of balls and palinos. The person who breaks up the arrangement of balls on the court Roy calls a shooter.

Roy really wants to play. When we go home he calls Simona and Jaimie from Eurolinks, who live in Amelia, to find out how Roy can get into a game or into the tournament. Jaimie will make a few calls. In the meantime, we talk about building interest in our village for the game. If we can do that, we agree that we will go to the Mayor and offer part of our land next to San Rocco for a court, if the commune will agree to finance it. We have wanted to do this for several years. Let's see what interest we are able to stir up in the next few months....

July 4
Last night we ate grilled cheeseburgers and my version of fries (peeled potatoes roasted in olive oil and rosemary at a high temperature and stuck under the broiler for the last minute or two). The rolls were the local rosettas, delicious and round with a rosetta formed on the top. This was our only American Independence Day celebration, and celebrated, if you can call it that, before the fact. Today will be a day like any other. We are thinking fondly of our friends and relatives celebrating the day, but not wishing to be anywhere but here.

The fish truck comes late, and when we walk up we see a flower truck parked right next to it. Bunches and bunches of flowers, which people buy and take to the cemetery, stand inside stuffed in plastic buckets. I love the lysanthus, a white flower not unlike a rose. We buy a bunch, since our roses are not as abundant due to the hot weather, and will arrange them in a big vase in the kitchen.

We buy a piece of perch for tonight, a container of marinated sardine-like fish and another container of tiny pink shrimp. The shrimp are from Denmark in a special liquid. I am not sure of these. They have some kind of preservative that will keep them "fresh" in the refrigerator for a month. We will give them a try. I will try to be open-minded.

Tomorrow we will serve only cold food to Wendy and Allan at pranzo, but there will be a lot of it. Last night I cooked cannellini beans in rosemary. Today I strained them and put them in oil. I will also make more rice-stuffed tomatoes. This time I will cook the rice a little in advance. The granita is almost gone, so Roy asks that I make another batch.

When Roy was watering this morning, he found a big green pepperoni lying next to one of the plants, and brought it in to me proudly. We will do something with that as well. Stuffed eggs, olive tapenade on crostini, salmon, red and yellow pepperoni in oil, shrimp salad, prosciutto and melon...the usual stuff. And the little fish...Spumante and cold Orvietto classico. Wendy calls in the afternoon to ask if their two adult children can come. Why not?

I spend almost three hours early this morning in the garden, feeding the roses with the last of the rose Maxi from California, dead-heading and weeding. Everything looks good. Perhaps today we will put gravel on the last path in the lavender garden. There are several lavender plants which blossom late and we will cut them early next week.

When I finish watering, Roy is sitting on the bench in front of the kitchen. I sit there with him and we are quiet, just listening to the sounds of the birds and taking in the loveliness of it all.

Later in the afternoon, we have a short thunderstorm, followed by clean, clean air and a welcome breeze. I read under the caki tree until the sun drops too low in the sky for the tree to shield me. I get up and do some weeding. These days have been so pleasant that weeding in late afternoon is a pleasure. If weeding can be a pleasure.

Here, the most mundane watering of the tomatoes, or weeding around a boxwood, take on a tenderness for me. It is as though I am bringing up children, pampering them and so enjoying the daily changes in their lives.

Later in the evening, we take a walk toward town, but only go as far as the garbage drop-off. Neighbors are out and wave to us. Our terrace is cool, but the row of little houses below us toward the center of the village is not. The street is in front of them and the other side of the street has a tall row of medieval buildings. The asphalt retains its heat, and the little houses, although they look out on the Tiber valley, probably are not cool. Everyone sits outside lethargically. Some night we will invite them all up casually for granita, but not tonight. We are tired.

July 5
I water and see Roy bringing gravel to the lavender garden. We did not finish the path yesterday as we had thought, and he wants to do it now. He brings wheelbarrow load after load to the last path to cover. Yesterday we laid the nursery cloth down and today we finish raking the old gravel on top.

Roy sifts the gravel to clean it before bringing it over. It is the gravel left from the first batch brought several years ago, and we have decided to use that gravel instead of the new gravel, on these paths. While he sifts, I rake dirt and twigs and stones from around the big olive tree. Roy will move all that to the back of the house, in preparation for filling in the hole under the bathroom.

Next week, Roy will contact the company in Viterbo who cleans out septic systems, to find out what we need to do to pump out the old "stuff" and fill in lime or whatever is safest. We will also need soil or rocks, so this will work out well. We are not quite finished with this part of the project.

Ideally, once we figure out what we need to do in the back of the house, we will cement a pad and then bring in a "room" or build a store room under the bathroom for garden chairs, ladders, and other things that are just lying around in the area behind the house.

I finish all the cooking early, and putter around. We will have a completely cold pranzo, and take many of the dishes out of the two little refrigerators, to let them get to room temperature. We set two long tables next to each other, making a square. We have a square cloth that fits perfectly, and set the three sides with chairs and plates, etc., so each person can sit looking out at the view.

Wendy and Alan and Brianna, their daughter and Ben, Brianna's findanzato, arrive promptly and we spend the next five hours relaxing and eating and drinking and laughing. It is warm, but there is a good breeze, and we make the best use of the shade from three sun umbrellas and one big caki tree overhead. For the first time in recent memory here, the boys ask for beer and drink their beer right out of the cans. I don't bat an eyelash. At least we don't have plastic water bottles on the table.

As the day progresses, we learn a great deal about the Australian's love of anything American. We are told that since the advent of television in Australia in the 50's, Australians have been glued to their TV sets, watching and learning and emulating every move Americans make. We had no idea. And now Alan and Wendy are living here, getting another very different slice of life. Wendy will travel back to Australia often. We don't think she is as enamored of Italy as Alan is.

Alan wants to build his own version of the Bomarzo park, with sculptures they have bought during trips around the world. He has installed a new, large Padre Pio sculpture in one area of the garden, and we have seen at least one large carved marble lion and two statues we think are Balinese. He is expecting a big shipment of statues soon, and we will see what he comes up with for a plan.

Their space is very large, so there is room for a lot of creative thinking. He wants a garden that looks like a painting, with splashes of color. We like Alan and Wendy very much, and look forward to getting to know them better. Brianna and Ben are wonderful...she is exuberant and full of life, like her father. Ben is quiet and confident but delightful and friendly. Their wedding will be next July in Italy, and we all laugh about arrangements they are making for the wedding.

After they leave, we put things away and sit outside for a while. The weather continues to be lovely and cool. We go inside and watch a Roman Polanski film, and wonder if it is shown in the U.S. We are starved for first run movies in English, and it is funny that we now watch movies we would not watch in the U.S. They all look good to us here.

July 6
We dress for church and drive up, only to find the square empty. The door to the church is open, but no one is there. Giuliola comes out of her door and we ask her what is going on. She responds, "Don't you know? The anniversary for Don Fabbio is here at 6PM tonight...a mass and then reception outside the church.

She tells us that everyone was told, but it was not in the weekly missal, and no one told us. Well, if they did, we did not understand. Last week's missal clearly states that the reception for Don Fabbio was in Bomarzo last night and mass is this morning, as usual, at 9:30. We agree to come back and get in the car.

Since we are dressed, let's go to mass in another town. Orvieto? I love the tiny San Giovanni but have never seen a mass performed there. We get on the A-1 to go and then think...this is the first weekend of the month...Let's go to Arezzo!

On the first weekend of every month, a huge outdoor market is held on all the side streets and piazzas of Arezzo...more than 200 stalls, we are told. We want inside door knockers and Roy always wants to look for small black and white dogs. It will be fun to just look.

We buy an old, embroidered linen dress for me for €10, a square piece of embroidered and cutwork cloth and four white tassels to make a lampshade for another €14 and Roy finds a small but heavy iron black dog, quite old. He thinks it is a basotto but when we get home discovers it is a basset hound.

We have lunch in a restaurant in an alley...Lasagna for me and papparadelle noodles for Roy, with a plate of crostini first. A simple lunch and later we have gelato at a gelateria. We arrive home by 5PM, and Livio walks down to ask if we will bring our camera to mass to take some pictures. How wonderful that we have been asked.

I put on my white €10 dress and we go to mass, which is so hot we all wilt, even with an open door to the plaza. Afterward, a long table with wall to wall food....pizzas and desserts and bottles of soft drinks. I ask the women we know what each of them made, and we try it all.

There are delicious pizzas, with zucchini or pepperoni and thin crusts. They look as tho they were made in a regular oven. I will have to find out. Tortas and more tortas, from lemon to chocolate to zucchini to nocciole, on and on and on. Lucia even makes a pineapple cake. I think it is the old fashioned "pineapple upside down cake", a recipe at least 50 years old, but it is good just the same.

We get Don Fabbio's email address. There are three Romanian people in the village, who have been hired to take care of very old residents. They congregate around Don Fabbio, who has been in Romania for the past year. He tries to talk to us and mixes up his Italian with Romanian and throws in a little English. He is a very serious sort of man, but this makes him laugh. I think he is thrilled that the village turned out for him to welcome him back for the weekend.

I have been very itchy all day, asking Roy to give me a scratch on the middle of my back where I cannot reach. By the time we arrive home from church, I am so itchy that I cannot stand it. My back is all red bumps. Roy rubs cortisone cream on me after I take a bath in something like Epsom Salts. I am dying to scratch. Tomorrow we will go to Dottoressa Ofelia to figure out what is going on.

We sit outside for a cocktail and Roy wonders what is going on with the cicadas. He playfully rubs his legs together and cannot make a sound. Can't identify with those bugs. They are SO LOUD.

July 7
I must be having an allergic reaction to something. Around 1AM, I wake Roy up to tell him I cannot stand the itching any more and he drives me to Soriano, where the closest emergency clinic is. Elisabetta is on duty there a few nights a week, but not tonight. A very young doctor named Roberto is on duty. The whole building is closed, except for Roberto's clinic.

Roberto does not speak English, but shakes our hands and is excited to see us. He has a relative in Pasadena. That makes us good friends right off the bat. He takes a look at me and goes into another room. We hear pages of a big book being turned. Not a good sign. We all agree that I need a cortisone shot. Once that happens, he gives us a prescription for drops and pills, which I am to take after pranzo and after cena.

He tells us to fill the prescription right away. There is a pharmacy in Soriano that he does not know the location of, where we can make a telephone call and they will fill the prescription tonight. He insists we do that. We spend twenty minutes trying to find the farmacia and decide to go home instead, since I won't be able to take the medicine until after pranzo anyway.

The remainder of the night passes slowly, but I sleep a few hours and wake up before 7AM to find the swelling has gone down on my neck at least. While I am outside watering, Roy makes notes so that he can call Dottoressa and explain what is wrong with me.

He gets out the verb tense book and grammar book. What he comes up with is so good that Dottoressa does not need to interrupt him once. He starts with " lei ha uno sfogo sulla schiena e colo." With this unfortunate event, we have learned some new words...itch(prurito)...stinging(bruciamente) ...drops(gocce)...rash (sfogo)...back (schiena)...neck (colo)

Dottoressa is very helpful and tells us what to get from the farmacia. She is still in Perugia, but we will meet with her at noon at her home office in Bomarzo. Ofelia gives me a prescription for steroid pills to take for a week, and very strong salve.

We agree that I will go to Capranica in the fall to get a battery of allergy tests. The rest of the day is spent trying to keep my attention off my itching. I call Shelly, who is knowledgeable about so many things, and she tells us to use mentholated talcum powder. It helps.

On the drive up the Bomarzo hill this morning, we pass a big blue local bus. In front of us is a three-wheeled ape. In front of the ape is a huge piece of farm machinery, with round bales of hay, taller than the truck bed. Roy thinks this is good fodder for the rock/scissors/paper game. We banter back and forth and it is fun. The road is very curvy, and it takes us several tries before we are able to pass both the ape and the farm equipment.

The exercise reminds me of taking our drivers' license tests in Rome, where we had to determine which cars had rightaways, and in what sequence, in several different scenarios. Apes (pronounced "ah-peh"...three wheeled vehicles allowed on secondary roads) and farm equipment are two reasons it takes a long time to travel on two-lane roads. Plenty of time to smell the roses.

While I am resting at home and trying to be quiet, Roy goes to Viterbo and locates the people who will pump out our septic tanks. He also wants to get a cover for the car, a mini car-port made of white canvas on poles, to deflect the heat. Our parcheggio is like an oven. Beautiful, but like an oven. Yes, a bit of form over function. We'll come up with something that will look well and also be functional.

Tia calls while we are having cocktails and invites us to a pool party at her house on Saturday. Simona is giving the party, using Tia's pool as the location, as a welcome to the parents of her husband, Jaimie, who are here for a visit from England. Tia is at the most difficult and stressful time of their construction project, as the windows are arriving on Wednesday, the painter needs to finish, as do the plumbers and electricians. Her general contractor is off on vacation, and she is now the capo.

We will take a tour on Saturday, and have offered her project management help or shopping help or research help. But we think she has things well under control. It is just too bad for Tia and Bruce that the party has to be on that date. They are so generous I cannot imagine them saying "no".

July 8
The doorbell rings when I am in the shower. I have slept later than usual. Roy sees that it is Felice, and by the time I go out he is weeding in the upper orto garden. The timing is right, and I tell Roy that there is at least one tomato ready to pick.

He gets his camera, I bring a serrated knife and plate outside, and we call Felice down to join in. We ask Felice to do the honors of picking the first tomato. It is truly luscious looking..orangey-red and yellow, bulbous and ready to burst and warm to the touch.

He hands it to me. I wash it in the outdoor sink and slice it. We each take a slice and slip the juicy fruit into our mouths. The taste is the taste I remember from the tomatoes at Whole Foods. Sweet...rich...I cut some more and Felice suggests we use salt and olive oil and basilico with the tomato, which we will do at pranzo. Yesterday we bought fresh buffalo mozzarella and it will still be fresh. Can't wait to tell Peggy.

Inside, we rewire the overhead lamp in the guest bedroom, with the shade we fashion out of the square of embroidered linen we purchased at the mercato in Arezzo on Sunday. My sewing machine is very good, and we will finish the shade off with a white tassel on each of the four corners. The glass of the lamp is a lovely shade of blue, and curves down so that the color is visible from below. We love these little projects.

Roy really wants to play bocce. I agree to return with him to the courts in Amelia and we show up around 5:30. We are welcomed by all the same men who were here the last day we came. After twenty minutes or so, one comes up and asks if we'd like to play a game. Well, Roy reminds me later that in no way did they invite ME to play. Roy agrees to play immediately, and about ten minutes later a game is set up.

Roy has some good shots, including a "shooter", where he breaks up the balls like a pro. He also has some bad shots, but this is his first time playing in over a year and the first time on this court. I am so proud of him.

Remember that this group of men have been playing on these same two courts for decades. Roy is able to hold his own, and although his team loses the first game, they are all tied at the score of 8 when the man who asked us if we want to play gets a holler from a woman who appears to be his wife from the hill above the court. He has to go home. So the game is over. He tells Roy to pay €1 but all the other men say, "No!" So Roy does not have to pay.

The bocce tournament with the five contradas of Amelia starts tonight at 9PM. When we are home having cocktails, he wonders about going, but decides against it. I agree to go with him on Friday night for the finals. Instead we talk about our court in the new property. The Amelia court seems no longer than the space we have to build ours.

Earlier in the day, we take the photos of Don Fabio from Sunday to Giuliola and Livio. We sit in their living room and Roy tells them that we'd like to see if we can create some interest with people in the village to play bocce. This will be a fun project to work on. A very long term project. In the meantime, we'll visit other courts in the area (Lugnano, Penna, return to Amelia) to see if he can get to know some of the players. I am hoping he will meet someone who will advise him about the court. Whatever happens, it will be fun.

July 9
Juliano arrives from the Fossa Settica company to look at the pumping project for our septic system. He is cute, has a dark and wild head of hair tied back with an elastic like a bunch of lettuce. Best of all, he speaks a little English, learned years ago at school. He is quite charming, and we have agreed to his price. He will return late on Friday to do the work, hopefully after John Fernbacher and his family have left. How embarrassing that would be to be pumping out sewage while we all finish pranzo on the terrace.

We have rejoined the Telepass Family. We picked up the controllo at the bank, and now can whiz through the toll plazas again. Back at home, we eat a huge heirloom tomato at pranzo, with fresh mozzarella, salt, pepper, fresh basilico and Diego's grand olive oil. We add marinated red onions to the tuna salad, and this simple meal is so fragrant and satisfying.

The simplicity of eating in Italy continues to delight us. Many of our expat friends complain about the boringness of always eating Italian, seeking out the Asian or Mexican cuisine at any opportunity. Although Roy chows down an occasional can of chili, we seem to do just fine with the variety of local food we are able to put together.

But first, we open our mail, consisting of a package from the Holdings in San Francisco and an envelope from Phillip Thompson. Receiving mail here is a treat. It takes a real effort to write and mail a letter these days, so we savor every little piece of mail that comes to L'Avventura. We do not get "junk mail"...perhaps that is something divinely American.

Carol Holding sent photos that were taken at our house with us last month. One is especially funny of Roy and Ren sitting on the bench in the lavender garden, both pointing away at something, ignoring the camera, with their coffee cups on their laps. I remember that Carol and I were lounging under the caki and nespola trees at the time and thinking how great it was that the two guys share the same dry humor.

Also enclosed is a book she brought on the trip and read, City of the Soul, all about the back streets of Rome. Roy and I both look forward to reading it soon. But first, I must finish Iris Origo's The Need to Testify.

Phillip's mail consisted of two pages copied onto parchment paper. He had sent a photograph of the queen's guards that he had taken years ago, this photo in honor of her anniversary as queen. In the letter, he milked every opportunity he had to meet the queen or the queen's mom. It was very moving, and funny at the same time. The second sheet was from the Queen's Lady in Waiting, thanking him. How great that he wanted to share that with us. He is "quite a chap" and we so enjoy his visits here with Donna.

Roy loves to water the front terrace, front path with the roses, fiorieras and front orto garden each morning, and I take the side garden with the lavender and roses, pomodori ort o and upper orto garden. This takes about an hour each for us, and we try to do this before 8 or 9am. On a good day, I am up before 7 and finish before 8. Although Roy gets up after me, he seems to be better organized, and can do more in less time. I seem to linger over areas and dream a little, or futz with a flower, so it takes me longer.

Since I don't spend a lot of time on his garden area, today I decide to walk out in the mid afternoon sun to the raised orto garden. I remember I saw a few onions ready to fall over a day or so ago. I take a look and decide to pull a couple of them up. Quite beautiful, I would say.

There is a real satisfaction pulling something out of the ground that is not a weed and knowing that it will be part of a meal soon. Even today! I take them in and clean them off in the sink. Roy will have a good surprise when he comes downstairs and goes to the kitchen. Such little things make us happy.

Outside it is very hot and a cloud cover tells us to expect rain. That is a good thing. Perhaps it will cool things off.

A few hours later in the cool twilight, I take my little stepstool out to the terrace. Roy brings a piece of nursery cloth over to where I want to work and cuts two slits. We place the cloth over two boxwood at a time. I sit on the little stool and give sixteen little boxwood a haircut. Perhaps tomorrow night I will do the rest of the row facing the street.

Behind me, the melons grow and grow and grow. We already see one looking spiny. It probably will be ready to cut and eat next week. The melons take over at least a third of the raised orto. I am imagining Cinderella and her pumpkin here...the leaves are just like they are in the story-book.

Tonight my handsome prince and I dine outside with grilled chops and grilled onion just picked from our garden. I did not know life could be so sweet.

July 10
There is a poetry in the way the bales of hay are randomly left in the fields below Mugnano. From a distance, we view Mugnano as a kind of fairytail promonotory, surrounded in lush green any time of year. Coming closer, the village rises up steeply from low fields that are ever being worked by local farmers...Sunflowers, grain, corn, hay, olives, grapes, kiwi, asparagus...and then there are several large orto gardens.

Driving up the only road to the village, the bales appear to be thrown across the land. The placement, however, appears not to be random at all. The fields are moving paintings, yellow and brown in the heat, cicadas noisily guarding their turfs. Rows of sunflowers separate two of the fields, and depending on the time of day of our arrival or departure, the flowers turn (gira) toward the sun (sole).

We were raised as suburban children. Roy spent summers in the California wine country at Aunt Amanda's farm, and my country memories were of visiting friends "down Maine" and picking blueberries. Otherwise, we had no idea what farms were like, or what farmers did with their days. We have such great respect now for the land, and for the people who toil and also embrace the land here, every day of the year.

At around six, I return to the terrace to give haircuts to the rest of the tiny "box"-wood plants facing the street. With my little step stool and nursery cloth, I am able to finish very quickly.

Below, two women pass and I wave and sing out, "Buona serra!" They thank me and pause, and then look up. The shorter woman asks me if I have lavender "semi" (seeds) that they can have to plant a couple of plants. I tell them the lavender has no "seeds" but they are welcome to come up and look. They will continue their walk now, but will come back on their way home.

Catharine and Kees arrive a few minutes later for a drink, and to look at our raised orto bed. They want to put one in in front of their Giove house and want to see how we have built ours. Their timing is great, because Catharine speaks much better Italian than I do, and she can help translate when I cannot figure out what to say. The other woman is the niece of Celestino Natale, the man who built this house circa 1935.

After we have sat for a while, the women arrive, and we open the gate for them. At first they use that word again... "fastidio..." meaning, "Are we bothering you?" Now that word makes sense to me.

I introduce myself when they get to the top of the stairs. Lydia is the shorter woman with dark hair and a beautiful round face. Noreena is Celestino Natale's niece, and her last name is Natale. It is good to know their names. We welcome them in and walk them around, show them the lavender, but also introduce them to every little "room" in each garden.

They are amazed by the heirloom tomatoes, and seem to like everything. They ask who has helped us with the pomodori and I tell them Felice. They nod their heads that he has done very good work, noting the bamboo structure he has built for the pomodori.

I show them the Mariani property and tell them about the six olive trees we will plant in the fall and Roy's "campo di bocce". They laugh. They do not miss a thing, as Catharine later relates to me. "Complementi, complementi. You have brought such beauty to our little paese."

I ask Noreena what she remembers about the house, and she only remembers playing here as a child and watching the workmen do the building. So she is about seventy five. She has an aunt who is still alive who may remember more, who lives in Rome. I ask if there are any pictures, and she does not know. We would so love a photo of the Natale family enjoying the house.

I tell Noreena and Lydia that to us, Mugnano is paradise. I also tell them that we like the people in Mugnano very much and they are both surprised and seem moved by my words. The words are very true.

When they leave, we hear from Catharine for the first time that the people of the village were suspicious when we planted the lavender garden several years ago. They could not figure out what we were up to, planting and watering things you could not eat. But now that we have planted three orto gardens, we have their respect. We feel more grounded here every day.

July 11
The night is very humid, so I welcome getting up at 7. I rake some leaves from the loquat tree on the terrace, so that Roy won't have to use the aspiratore (a kind of blower and vacuum-cleaner in-one for the garden) today before our guests arrive for pranzo.

The fish truck comes and we liked the small shrimp last week so much we purchase some more, for a salad with wild fennel, red onion and lemon. We also pick up some marinated calamari. The flower truck is not here. It comes later, probably too late to buy lysanthus again.

There are some roses for vases at home, and I mix them with herbs, including lavender. We'll have another all cold pranzo today. We seem to have a good plan for how to do it so that we can really enjoy our guests and the weather is too warm to have anything hot.

John Fernbacher, his wife Kathy, daughters Sarah and Kelly and son Jack arrive, and we spend a great afternoon here. Aside from a moment when we almost have to use the Heimlich maneuver on Kelly, who chokes on a piece of melon, the afternoon is mellow. John later said to Kelly, "I would have given you the Heimlich, but I was taking a picture." It was a funny moment.

John and his family stopped for pranzo here after spending a week in Greve, where they got to know the owners of the place where they rented. Last night, John asked them if they would like to have dinner together. "We can't," said the wife, "We have to have dinner with our tractor salesman."

Today, when John left, the wife asked them if they wanted to have lunch with them. John said, "We can't. We're having lunch with my tractor salesman." John was a client of Roy's for many years in San Francisco. We all had a big laugh. Now John thinks of Roy as his tractor salesman. Roy is happy to leave it at that.

After the Fernbachers leave, we have what I now call "A Brinkley moment". That is the time when we are alone again. It is quiet then, and we can relax together, thinking back on the time with our guests. When Brinkley was alive, she would stand at the door after guests left, wiggle her tail and dance around, making sweet little noises of joy. "Alone again! Yay!" We love having guests. But we also love the silence after they have gone to reflect on the time spent with them. I call these Brinkley moments. I sure miss that little dog.

The Vitorspurgo people come and within an hour they are through pumping and disinfecting the back of the house. We are very relieved. In ten days we will have the paperwork to prove the septic system has been done.

We take the empty bottles of spumante and Orvieto Classico from pranzo and a bag of garbage down the street. We walk to the second set of containers where the glass recycling is located. On the way back, we stop to talk with Italo and Dina and Noreena and Lydia. They ask us if our guests were relatives. We tell them no, they are friends from San Francisco.

"Friscola!" Italo exclaims. "Friscola?" I respond. "What's that, like Briscola?" (Briscola is a card game played in Italy.) We all laugh. Now when we go to the states, we will go to Friscola. What a great name!

Of course, by now the word is out about Roy's bocce court. Roy tells them we are going tonight to watch the finals of the Intercontrada Bocce tournament in Amelia. The subject of bocce is now officially on the table. Italo modestly tells Roy that when bocce was played in Mugnano he was a champion. I said, "Capo?" He responded, "Mezzo Capo" with a shake of his shoulders. He said to Roy, "If you build a court, I will be your client." What a funny way to put it.

We go to Amelia and get really good seats on white plastic chairs right at the "line of scrimmage." We are not sure how these games will be played, but in a moment the first men start. A few of the men are familiar and they acknowledge us, which is great.

During the next hour and a half, we watch a number of games, including two games made up solely of female participants. In each case, there is one older serious woman and one younger one. One set wins, one set loses.

The women roll the balls slower, in an almost delicate fashion, taking their time and gliding forward. One young woman, however, has been practicing "shooting". Twice during the game she aims and the ball bounds through the air and... "bam!" All the balls, including the palino, are scattered. This is very gutsy.

Overall, the men are much more animated. They seem to have a better time of it, joking with their opponents. They do not care if their ball sails over the palino. One big man, who seems to have a watermelon shaped stomach that looks firm as a rock, has an incredible style. He stands with the ball raised in both hands, stares steely-eyed at the opponent's bocce balls and palino, knowing just where he will strike. He takes one step back, never moving his eyes.

The ball is lowered almost to the ground, he spins it and it flies out of his palm like a rocket, taking dead aim where he intends to land. The women, on the contrary, play a more conservative game. It is all great fun, until we leave and walk up the hill to the car.

There is a message on Roy's cell phone. We must have been in a dead zone. It is the Carabinieri. I recognized the number because we have seen it on signs along the road. Roy calls right away. "Where are you? When will you be home?" We tell them 30 minutes and drive swiftly and silent all the way home, each of us with our own remarkable fantasies.

The actuality, however, is somewhere in between. We let them in the gate. They walk up the stairs and ask us immediately about our stolen cell phone. It appears we still have the box of a missing cell phone. We purchased the phone in 2000, and were given a box for the phone, but it was not the correct box. We did not know that at the time.

When we reported the cell phone stolen, we looked at the box and indicated the number on the box. Now it appears the police have found the phone that matches the code on the box and think it is ours. But it is dark blue. And our cell phone was grey.

These three Carabinieri are becoming friends of ours, whether we like it or not. We do not know their names, other than the Capo's, but they are feeling relaxed in our kitchen. It seems strange to me that they are dressed in casual clothes at 11:30 at night, although they are on duty....Jeans and polo shirts and no official signs that they are police. If we did not know who they were, we certainly would not have let them in the gate.

The scene is almost funny. They at first think they have solved a great crime. We do not know what the crime is, but the theft of a cell phone in itself is not worthy of all this attention. One of the men tries to convince Roy that his phone was blue. Roy is sure it was not, but cannot find the two-year-old telephone contract. He does remember the store in Viterbo, and tells the carabinieri where the store is. He also gives them the box for the stolen phone.

They leave, and we decide to go out to the Octoberfest pub in Attigliano for a beer. The pub serves the beer from Regensburg, Germany, where Roy was stationed in the 60's. We love the beer and the pub has an outside beer garden that offers a perfect scene for us on this warm night.

The moon is almost full and we chock this strange night up to that.

July 12
Even though it is hot at 7AM, it is lovely and quiet outside. Not a cicada yet, not a tractor, not a weed-wacker anywhere nearby. I take a good look at the eggplant, and see four tiny dark jewels growing daintily from the main stem, despite a recent chomping from hungry snails. I do believe the plant will make it. I pick several small zucchini and the smaller cabbage, and will make cole slaw with chopped baby zucchini, red onion, wild fennel, vinegar, lemon and mint. Almost everything I need is right in the garden.

Down below, the pomodori are thriving. I am not so sure about whether it was a good thing or not for Candida to put copper sulfate on the leaves. But the three tomatoes we had earlier this week were surely incredible tasting. I think that several more will be ready this next week.

I make cole slaw and we have that for pranzo with what is left from yesterday's seafood salad and pepperoni. The cabbage is so tasty that I am sorry we gave ten plants away. There is only one left, so perhaps we will plant a few more in the next weeks.

We agree that we need a larger umbrella to shield us on the terrace from the summer's scorching temperatures, and remember that there is a discount store on The Flaminia, the SS3 route toward Rome, where we can find one at a good price. We drive on the A-l to Ponzano Romano and wind around the back hills, near Mount Sorate.

We decide to go up to the hill town near the top, San Oreste, and park right outside the wall and huge open gate. A man sitting on a bench in front of a stupendous view tells us how to make sure we do not get a parking ticket. We speak of the weather, and he asks us if we like the sea. There it is again, the Italian fascination with the seaside. This promonotory where we are standing is so beautiful that I cannot understand why he would yearn to be somewhere else.

It is almost 4PM. We walk up into the old village, and see at least two buildings that were built in the 9th century. One of them, a church, is large and suffering a great deal of moisture problems. Its faded grandeur is there, however.

But what is more remarkable is the sound wafting out the front door and down the cobblestone street of the women reciting the rosary. Their tone is like a bell, moving up and down the words like honey. We stand silently at the front door and then bless ourselves with holy water and enter, standing in the back of the church.

In a minute or two we leave, just as a very old woman steps silently in to join her neighbors. We feel as though we are intruding. But as we leave we turn around and hold hands, closing our eyes, just listening to the drone of the voices. We will long remember the sound and the silence and the moment.

We walk around the remarkable old town some more, stopping for a gelato on the way out at the bar at the gate. Then we sit on a bench overlooking the sheer drop and fields and crops below, drinking in the smell and the sounds all around us as well as the taste of the creamy rich treat.

Back in the car, we drive to the Flaminia, and find the store we are looking for. We also find the umbrella we want. But on the road again, Roy muses, "I wonder what Karina is doing now. Perhaps she'd like to meet us for coffee."

Before we know it, we've spoken with her and have agreed to meet her at the bar across from her apartment in Rome. It is so good to see her, and to hear about how the tour went today with the Fernbachers.

We walk instead across the Ponte Milvio bridge with her and have drinks at a neighborhood bar. Then we agree that she will come home with us tonight and take the train back to Rome tomorrow night.

On the way, we race toward Viterbo, to see if we can get to a big store to buy ribbon before it closes. Karina wants to make lavender wands with some of our remaining lavender, and we have none at home.

We will not make it to Viterbo on time, but find a store on the road that sells all kinds of things that is still open at 9PM and amazingly they sell ribbon. Karina stocks up and as we leave she tells us a story about her tour today.

The Ferbacher family of five needed to take a cab to St. Peter's because it will be closed tomorrow, their last day in Rome. The pope has decided that it is so hot that he is leaving town early. So Karina tries to convince a taxi driver to take all five of them. It is against the law, the cabbie tells Karina in Italian.

"But what if Jack (who is twelve) makes himself really small so that you cannot see him?" "How small?" the cabbie responds. "VERY small. Jack, roll up. As a matter of fact, get in and lie down so no one can see you and don't get up until you're there."

Jack does as he is told and Karina has the cabbie get out to inspect the scene. He agrees to take them and to drop them off a block from St. Peter's so that he won't be stopped by the police and fined. This is one example of why Karina is such a great tour guide in Rome.

We just love being with her and are delighted that she will spend the night with us. She has not been with us since May 16th, the night after our robbery. It is a full moon outside, and we hope this visit will erase all the bad vibes that may remain in the house from May.

We are all tired, but sit out on the terrace and hear stories about her trip to the U S for her mother's 80th birthday party. Tomorrow early I will cut more lavender and she will show me how to make lavender wands. It should be fun to hang out with her for the day. We love her so.

July 13
Two lavender plants are cut before the bees zoom in at 8AM. I move the cuttings to the loggia, in preparation for Karina's project. Then I check out the side garden and water. A few of the Earl of Edgecomb pomodori will be ready to pick soon, as will at least one of the Pre-Italian variety. Up above, more zucchini have sprung up overnight, along with several zucchini flowers. We will not pick anything today.

While Karina sleeps cozily in the next bedroom, we get ready for church and drive up. I bring one of those inexpensive Asian bamboo fans for church. The Italian women use them often at times like this, when there is no air cooling available. The mass starts late, and almost everyone waits outside until the priest arrives. No need to go inside until the bell peals in this heat.

We go in before the bell, and see Felice sitting just behind where we sit. We ask him how things went in Capranica and he tells us that his nose is fine but he needs to take some medicine. I go over to Marsiglia sitting in the last pew across the aisle to greet her and ask about Felice.

She whispers something about his heart. I have no idea what she is saying but I am sure there is something going on with Felice. We will try to find out. A kiss from Candida and the bell peals for mass.

Mass today moves me more than usual. Yesterday's sight of the old women saying the rosary in San Oreste remind me that the 40 or so people here for mass are here because they truly want to be here. The four hymns we sing are sung with emotion. The responses are said in strong voice. We have not come to a rosary since May, but will try to come early this week. The rosary is said in the church every week day afternoon.

We are learning more and more about the liturgy in Italian, and are able to start to speak it. During the homily I even understand a little.

After church, I make breakfast for Karina and we sit around and gab. I make a frittata for lunch, and sit it on the counter to cool. I use a beautiful white onion and two zucchini from the garden, plus slices of the potatoes we used on Saturday to prop up the roasted rice-stuffed tomatoes. It all works out, and we even have cocomero (watermelon) granita left for dessert.

Before pranzo, we put up the new umbrella on the terrace, to block out the sun pouring in the front of the loggia, where the first stage of the lavender project will take place. We bring two kitchen chairs out and the lug of lavender. Sitting around a big black waste basket, we clean and strip the lavender stems, then put them in a bucket with a few inches of water, until we are ready to make the wands.

We finish stripping a lot of the lavender before pranzo, but are too tired to go back to it in the heat in the afternoon. Karina will stay tonight, and later we will take out the lavender and the ribbon to start.

We all decide we need naps, and take at least an hour to cool down and try to sleep. Later, Karina begins to do the wands in the loggia, and I join her until I need to get ready to go to dinner. Karina does not want to come, but Roy and I go to meet Tia and Bruce at a restaurant outside Orte, Nonni Pappa. We return a few hours later to find Karina still in the loggia, plugging away at her lavender wands. She has made almost fourteen. They look wonderful.

We sit outside under a full moon and tell more stories, until it is time to come inside. Wait...there are fireworks in the distance. It must be some local town's holiday. Instead, I go inside to find an email from Peggy that she will be here in a few weeks to meet Sofia and share the tomatoes.....This is wonderful news to take to dreamland....

July 14
In the silence of the early morning, I putter around in the garden, before I water. I clip, deadhead roses, and bring in herbs and flowers to make tiny flower arrangements. I am learning that in this incredible heat the blossoms wither and die in a day. So when I see a lovely bloom, I pick it and bring it inside.

Felice arrives and in the upper orto garden I show him the melanzanie. He is pleased with it. There is nothing much to say about the zucchini. It just thrives. He thinks the capuccia is perfect to pick and makes a hole in his cheek with the end of his index finger to indicate it will be delicious. We will buy some capuccia "plugs" soon so that we can plant more.

He gets some cord to tie up the pomodori, and when I come down with the hose to water, we have a wonderful time. The pomodori are really growing quickly now. He wants us to slow down the process, and when Roy comes out tells him to get a piece of nursery cloth to cover them during the hottest part of the day.

That makes a lot of sense. He picks the first two San Marzano plum tomatoes and we agree that three of the heirlooms are ready to pick. Two are zebras, and one is an Earl of Edgecomb, orange and beautifully round.

While we are alone, I ask Felice about his health. He tells me he is fine and I ask him what Marsiglia said about his heart. He is taking medicine for what I think is an irregular heartbeat, but it is not serious. I am satisfied.

I tell Felice that there are no lemons on the lemon tree, and he goes with Roy to investigate. He will cut off some branches. I am still watering in the side garden, so do not follow along. When I finish, I see Felice and Roy cutting back a lot of the melon vine in the raised orto bed. Although there are many flowers, he tells us that the pale flowers are no good. They will not become melons. So he cuts where he needs to cut. Right now, there are three melons in this orto bed and at least two near the zucchini.

We then have a discussion about the pepperoni. We were sure we asked for red pepperoni, but these are green. He tells us to pick them. I think he is saying that these are not red pepperoni. There is so much to learn.

We show him the seeds that we planted to grow rughetta (arugula) and they are not doing all that well, despite the little roof Roy has built to shade them. We need to find plugs of rughetta and plant those. I think we also need to plant some more basilico. The plants we have are starting to get pale in color and leggy.

Karina gets up after nine, and we have breakfast together. She then goes out to do a few more lavender wands. We have a peaceful morning, and have the largest zebra tomato at pranzo with fresh buffala mozzarella, olive oil and basilico, frittata, melon, prosciutto, hard boiled eggs, marinated artichoke hearts, you know, the usual stuff.

Karina gets the train back to Rome in the afternoon and we try not to move too much, because the temperature is very humid and over 40 degrees (38 is around 100 degrees). We pick up some capuccia (cabbage) and a basilico plant and will plant them later. We will probably change our watering pattern to evenings, with the weather this hot. Tonight we will start. Perhaps we will jump under the hose as well.

A few hours later we water everything, and this makes a lot of sense. For the foreseeable future, we will change our watering pattern to evening. The hot sun is off the vegetables and flowers, and the water now will have twelve hours before the hot sun beats down again to soak in the soil.

July 15
The roses on the rose arch (Crepescule) are thriving. So much so that I thin them out, to give them more incentive to grow. Already they are taller than me on each side. The laurel tree just above the arch will have roses growing into it as well, as the shoots climb and climb.

Down below on the path, the Lady Hillington roses are also very happy. The blossoms are 3-4 inches wide, and the color starts as a melony-yellow and turns to cream. In this heat, they are almost all cream. The shoots are fanning wide on either side, and we are training them with silver metal wire, nailed to the tufa wall in a long line, every foot and a half or so up the wall.

The roses in the side garden are not so happy. The Jude the Obscure rose is fine, but the Glorie di Dijons are not really taking off. They are puny little things, although one is several years old and two are at least two years old. The Madame Alfred Carrieres are long and leggy, no matter what I do. At the beginning of the season they flourished, but now they are just, well, there. I am almost considering pulling them out.

The four iceberg roses on the top of the side garden wall are not doing all that well, either. I have used the last of the Maxi fertilizer we bought for roses from California, and am using local food now. I feed them at least once a week. Last year, these roses did very well, and could be seen way down the street until mid fall. Perhaps they will get a second wind soon.

All the boxwood, the new as well as the old, are doing fine. We are considering taking out all the lavender (it has been five years) and Sarah tells u us that is about right for lavender. They are getting too big. We will decide in the fall. In the meantime, they are clipped back to balls, and look like modern art in all their greyness. We will, of course, replant lavender in their place. The lavender is a signature of L'Avventura and we love it here, inside in big baskets and outside in the garden.

Early in the morning, we go to Soriano for a blood test for Roy. He has not taken cholesterol medicine for over a month, and this test is to see how his cholesterol levels are doing. We then go to Sippiciano for haircuts. Roy gets his beard trimmed, a haircut, I get a haircut and color, and it all comes to €42. Danieli, who is about 25, owns his own salon, and does a very good job. Some things are good and very inexpensive here...medical care and haircuts...two mainstays of our existence...

The pots we are having made as our anti-theft receptacles for the spiny roses are ready in Ripabianca, so we drive there to pick them up. It takes less than an hour. Ripabianca is just below DeRuta, and after we get the pots we drive east to find a place for pranzo.

We love the name San Terenziano, in honor of our son, so eat at a little outdoor café there. No postcards to memorialize the rather unremarkable town. Back home with the pots...It is again over 40 degrees and very humid.

July 16
I am so disappointed. The heat has dried up many of the heirloom tomato flowers, and this means that many of the tomatoes we looked for ward to picking will not make it. Starting two days ago, with Felice's counsel, we started covering the pomodori during the strong sunlight hours with nursery cloth.. The pomodori at the bottom are ripening very quickly, and we have tomato salads twice a day. We don't know what to expect.

This has been a sad lesson. Our respect for the farmers grows exponentially. In the fall, we will purchase more heirloom tomato seeds from California, and will keep them in a cool dry place. In February, we will plant the seeds in the guest bedroom window, and then plant them outside at the end of April. We will change the soil, and will absolutely not put any chemicals anywhere near our vegetables.

I cannot imagine saying anything to Candida about what she did by putting copper sulfate on our tomato leaves, but she thought she was doing the right thing. I will know better next time and will understand what that blue liquid is the next time I see it anywhere near our garden.

For today, at least, the doorbell rings, and I am able to greet Felice with joy. Last night we saw that at least three of the tomatoes on his two heirloom plants are ripe. I take him down and show him. He does not want to take them, but I convince him to take one Zebra and one Earl of Edgecomb to share with Marsiglia for pranzo.

We will take several heirlooms to Alan and Wendy's for pranzo today. It is hot, so we may even take a dip in their pool.

I cut the last several lavender plants and strip the bottom of the stalks. There is more room in each of the baskets in the house, and we will pack them tight.

Roy is busy getting ready for Sofia. He takes the cage out of storage, and puts in her little pillow. It is now right inside the bedroom door, facing the desk, with its door open, ready to greet her. I will iron the linen cloth that will sit on top of the cage like a little sunshade. We have two soft little toys, and all we need for her. Last night, we moved the little dog house right outside the loggia, where we sit for cocktails. After this long hiatus, we are really ready for our new little puppy.

July 17
We watered everything very deeply last night, because we will be gone for three days. Although Felice will come each morning and evening and do the watering for us, we take extra precautions. The 35 degree plus temperatures each day are an everyday occurrence. There has not been a temperate day for at least six weeks.

We leave here before 7AM, and are able to drive to Mantua before pranzo. We make the trip in very good time, and arrive there before noon. We remember wanting to spend some time in Mantua years ago, but only stopped for pranzo then. Today, we have made reservations in a trattoria we found in a guidebook, and look forward to a special meal.

Thursday is market day in Mantua, and the streets are teeming with people and tables covered with umbrellas. If I close my eyes, I can imagine this as a medieval marketplace, the t-shirts and plastic sandals transformed into barrels of grain and linen.

We walk the market, enjoying the sights and sounds. The cobblestones are difficult to walk on, and we imagine this town treacherous in rain. Because the town is surrounded on three sides by lakes, it is very humid. Again, the temperature is over 40 degrees.

We have left the car at the edge of town and walk to the restaurant. By the time we arrive, we are very hot. The building is very cool, and we are greeted by a man wearing a light grey suit and red bow tie. He seems impervious to the weather, and guides us down a hallway to the restaurant.

We are not disappointed by this meal. Melon and peach soup, served cold, with the most unusual ingredient: melon seeds, which have been dried and toasted, then pulverized. Cold veal with tuna sauce. A perfect blend for this weather. We skip dessert, knowing we will have something later, and are served tiny sweet biscuits before we leave.

We do not look forward to our walk back to the car, and realize that although the museums will all open at 3PM, it is far to hot to attempt any sightseeing. In the middle of town, there is a lovely round building, several hundred years old, and we stop to look inside. Otherwise, Mantua will have to wait for another trip. It is all we can do to reach the car and get inside to turn on the air conditioning.

We arrive in Verona about an hour later, and Roy's parking karma serves us well. The bed and breakfast we are staying in is perfect. Our room is on the third floor, overlooking the Palazzo Signori. There is air conditioning here, and we are again thankful for this blessing.

We are able to walk to The Arena, where the opera is being held. We have wanted to see Nabucco again, remembering the wonderful music from a performance we saw in San Francisco several years ago with Pat and Margaret. The Arena was built in the first century A D, and most of it survives now.

We sit in the orchestra, first row of the third section. Giovanna tells us the only place to sit is up in the "bleachers", but it is so crowded there that we think that the discomfort is not worth the experience. We are able to arrive just before curtain, 9:15 P M, and agree that this is well worth the extra cost.

On the way to Verona, we played the opera on our CD player, while I read the words in English. The music is dramatic, exciting, and the Italian national anthem is sung during the opera, so we expect there to be a groundswell from the audience. Again, we are not disappointed. At one point, there must be 150 chorus members on stage!

The back of the stage is the back of the arena, with stone row after row to the top. It is beautifully lit, and during a scene where there is a huge battle, a huge red splattered yellow fabric is draped down twenty or so rows of stones. The center of the stage has a huge door, during which several different constructions are moved in and out with the cast. A huge bird, an angel, I cannot remember them all. I do think there was a little too much of this spectacle. It reminded me of a Cecil Be DeMille movie. Otherwise, we loved it all.

Near the end of the four act opera, the chorus sang their famous piece. It was sung slowly, mournfully, and although the sound was huge, the timing was impeccable. At its end, cheering and foot stamping erupted for about ten minutes. So of course there was an encore. Another five minutes or so of cheer and then on to the end of the opera.

Although we were disappointed by the sound, because there was no amplification at all, the sound was quite pure, and we were able to hear everything. How strange that our ears are so accustomed to amplification.

July 18
Although we have a perfect parking space, we decide not to spend the day in Verona. It is just too hot. So we drive to Sermione, on the shore of Lake Garda. The town is beautiful, with a view of mountains on the other side, and a blue-green lake. Hoards of people surround us. The drive is slow, much of it on a two-lane road. And when we arrive the breezes on the lake do not compensate for the continued heat.

We walk around a little, and eat at a too-expensive restaurant with shade under olive trees and a view of the lake. No matter. Afterward, we walk into a few shops, but decide we do not like this town. The shopkeepers and restaurants seem to prey on their victims, charging high prices for unremarkable food and shopping.

Back in Verona, we walk around a little, and eat at an outside trattoria, again too expensive. This is a tourist town. But what incredible architecture. We will return here in cooler weather to take more of it in. We walk around after dinner and find a restaurant that we will come back to next time.

July 19
We leave Verona early, and drive to Padua, to see the Giottos in La Cappella degli Scrovegni. We are able to get tickets for the 9AM tour. This "tour" consists of a group of no more than 25 people who are shown into an air conditioned room for fifteen minutes. Then we are taken to a nearby room, where the frescos are, and are able to stay there for about thirty minutes.

The walls and ceiling are covered with extraordinary art, painted by Giotto and his students between 1303 and 1305. I like these frescos almost as much as those in the Duomo in Assisi. It is good to see that there is such care taken with the atmospheric conditions to protect the art.

We drive home on the E-45, through Umbria, stop for lunch at Citta de Castello and arrive home before 6PM. We change and go out to water, and Felice arrives a few minutes later, telling us everything is doing fine. He tells us the mayor is giving a dinner for the people of the village at 9PM. It is a good thing Felice told us. Otherwise we would not have known.

We arrive at the dinner, outside the old school, and tables are set around the courtyard. Stefano, the mayor, greets us, as do many of the people of the village. Someone at the far end of the tables beckons us over, and we sit across from the shoeman who lives above us and a woman who came to see our construction project weeks before and her husband.

We do not know their names. They live in Rome and Mugnano. Her father lived in Mugnano, but neither of them were born here. The shoe man is also a stranieri, buying his building ten or so years ago because he wanted to retire here.

We are served: penne arribiatta, hot porchetta, green salad, bread, a hot donut-like dessert, big slices of watermelon, wine and water and then coffee and scotch and brandy are served after dinner. People jest with the mayor that this is not an election year. He comes over to us and greets us and I remind him that we told him we would give him English lessons...when? He thinks August. Roy tells him about his idea for the bocce court and Stefano does not disagree that it is a good idea. He suggests Marino, with his little frontloader to do the work.

Vezio and his wife come by, and we go over to the iron fence to talk. His bid of €15,000 for San Rocco was turned down by the Curia. So the deal is dead. The Curia seems to think they will get a lot of money for the church. In the meantime, it falls deeper into disrepair.

We are alarmed to learn that most of the cotto flooring, original and several hundred years old, was stolen from the church around the time of our robbery. We are so surprised. We have been there every night and we cannot imagine that we would not have seen people taking that heavy stone down the path in front of us.

Unfortunately, when Vezio talked with the Curia, they asked him what he thought was the most valuable in San Rocco. He replied, "The floor". A strange coincidence. The church is now worth much less to us to buy.

July 20
Sophia's day. We drive to church, and then to pick her up near Lake Bracciano, above Rome. She is just as cute as can be, and sits on my lap on the way home. She gets sick four times, but is a good sport. Poor girl. She has never been in a car before, and the road is very curvy for most of it. The drive home seems endless.

She gets her energy back quickly upon arriving at the house, and settles down here as though she has been here a long time. She follows me everywhere, and that is fine with me.

Duccio and Giovanna and Clara arrive at 6 for Spumante to greet Sofia. She has fun with them, then sleeps under Clara's chair. Mario Fosci sees us and asks about Sofia, so we invite him in and he joins the group, then gives Sofia a greeting.

When it is time to water, I take Sofi around with me, introducing her to all the flowers and plants. She clearly loves the garden, and noses around at everything. Roy sprays her a little with his watering wand, and she investigates the shower of water.

Late in the evening, we take her with us to take out the garbage, and the few neighbors on the way delight in meeting her. She does not want to sleep in her cage. Each time I put her in, she hops out. She cries when I close the door. So I let her go, and she sleeps right beneath me, under the edge of the bed.

July 21
Little Sofi slept all night right below me under the bed. When I awoke, she woke up and wiggled all around, even doing what she is supposed to do sort of on the newspaper. Everything is so new to her, and she seems to love most everything. Ba Ba the tiny lamb toy is one she hangs her head over to sleep on, as well as shake about.

Today is mostly a lost day, for my migraines of the past have returned with a vengeance. Roy and Sofi spend most of the day on the couch, watching TV and sleeping. It is too hot outside to do much.

July 22
Another lost day. Sofi continues to charm us. A scare today. Felice comes up at 8AM while Sofi and I are sitting on the front step. He whistles to her and she is paura (afraid). Felice is such a kind man, but his face is rough and he is wearing his straw hat. Somehow he frightens her, and she cowers behind me.

I ask him what is wrong with the pepperoni, and we go over to look at it. Too much hot sun, he thinks. Cover them with nursery cloth, but don't touch the plants with the cloth. Roy will build a scrim later with short poles.

I turn around and Sofi is nowhere to be seen. I let Felice walk about and try to find her. "Sofi? Sofi?" Not a sound. Felice leaves. It is too hot to work. "Sofi? Sofi?" No response. I look inside in the kitchen, in the back pantry, outside on the front terrace. All gates were closed, so she cannot be in a side garden.

Roy hears me and comes down. He searches one area and I search another. We are panic-stricken. Marelisa told us to not let her alone in the yard for long. Big birds sometime mistake these tiny puppies for rodents and carry them off. Please, please, let her be all right. I am worried that she has fallen somewhere and is hurt.

Roy goes inside and looks in the living room. We had closed the doors part way, blocking them with Roy's bocce ball kit. I could not imagine that she was inside, but Roy saw her, in a dark corner behind the round table. She let me go in to get her and acted fine. Time to play. We are SO RELIEVED!

Today is possibly the hottest day yet...at least 41 degrees (over 105). The orto garden is hanging on...barely. Tomatoes ripen faster than we can pick them. Rugghetta (arugula) is not doing well. It has tiny holes in it. The rugghetta we planted two months ago did fine, but we planted from plugs. We are trying to find more. Planting from seeds is not working.

The fiorieras look fabulous. Rosemary and roses thrive there. The rose arch grows and grows, and blossoms more every day. The seafoam roses are bouncing back. The Jude the Obscures are doing fine. Most of the flowers in Roy's watering territory are doing fine. Mine are not. Piano, piano, I will feed everything in a day or two.

July 19
Sofi slept under my side of the bed for the first part of the night, and we put her in the cage for the rest. Early, before 6AM, I went down to open the gate for Mario, who will do his heavy duty weed-wacking at 6AM. Roy gets up to supervise Mario, and while he is taking a shower I do the unpardonable. I take her up with me to the bed. She is in heaven. I tell myself this is her reward for peeing right on the newspaper during the middle of the night. Remarkable.

Minutes later, Roy comes in and in his eyes Sofi can do no wrong. I am amazed, but he is not upset. He never allowed any of our dogs to be on our bed before. She makes herself at home and after playing for a few minutes goes to sleep.

Is it possible that an 8-week old dog is already paper trained? Magari! She was truly sent from heaven. During the day, I notice three times that she wets on the paper in the kitchen and also does her business outside, without prompting. What a girl!

July 24
We miss yoga this morning, because we are getting ready for pranzo tomorrow with five guests. There is not much to pick from at the Attigliano weekly outdoor market, so we go on to Viterbo's daily outdoor market to shop. The rest of the day is quiet.

July 25
Marilyn and Bob are unable to take their tour with Karina in Rome today, because there is a train strike. By the time they drive to Rome it is 2PM, so have arranged to do their tour early, early tomorrow and then they will drive to Mugnano for pranzo with us.

I am able to go to see Italo, the fish monger, who is there in his spot in the shade when Sofi and I go to get some fish for salad for tomorrow. I am also able to get some of his specially marinated alice (anchovies) in oil and herbs and spices. He meets Sofia and as a gift prepares some fresh alice and bones it. When I get home I bone it some more and cook it a little and she has a great pranzo of her own. Italo tells me it will be very good for her coat. She continues to be an angel.

July 26
Marilyn and Bob Smith, their son Mike, daughter Jody and her husband Carlo and children Wyatt and Simona come for a very late pranzo, after a remarkable tour with Karina in Rome. Roy takes them for a short tour of the village, and when they return, Jody tells me that everyone in the village seemed asleep on their benches and chairs until Roy arrived and then they beamed and all wanted to talk with him. What a joy to hear this.

We have a wonderful visit with the Smiths and Sofi especially loves the children. They are very sweet to her and when the adults are taking a tour of Mugnano, we go inside and sit on the couch with Sofi and watch Pipi Longstocking on the Disney Channel in Italian. They know all the words...Sofi is in heaven. These are two remarkable children.

We invite Mike to stay with us overnight and offer to take him for a tour of some old Tufa towns and then take him back to their place in Tuscany. Everyone agrees it is a great idea.

Later that night we take Mike to the Octoberfest Pub in Attigliano. The owner's wife is Portuguese and she and Mike are able to speak Portuguese together and we have fun drinking German beer outside under the stars. Sofi sleeps away and is content on my lap.

July 27
Roy is up at 6AM and does an extra watering. Mike and I get up shortly after and we are on our way before 8AM. By the time we reach Marilyn and Bob's, we have seen eight towns: Viterbo (a short spin through, to take Mike on our secret ride through a seldom-used street on the other side of Viterbo, a one-lane road carved out of tufa, with tufa rising thirty feet on either side), Sorano, Solvano, Pittigliano (where we have lunch at an outdoor café, with the town rising out of tufa in our view), Bagno Vignoni (where we poke our feet in the hot theraputic water), Buonconvento...and on to their house.

We have dinner and tell funny stories under a wonderful pergola, and then take a 26 kilometer ride to the place where Marilyn and Bob have rented for themselves. For their kids, they swapped their San Francisco place for a little place in Tuscany which their kids Jody and her husband Carlo and children Wyatt and Simona and Jody's brother Mike, are staying. There is not much water. A reminder for people who rent places in Italy in the summer. The water can go off without warning. We have been so lucky in Mugnano. No water shortages...yet.

July 28
Up early and coffee in Mercatale with Marilyn and Bob. Then off traversing across Tuscany. We love the cypress trees. They look like brush strokes on canvas in the distance. In this unbearable heat, whatever green grass grew is now brown. Fields are golden brown with scatterings of green cypress and grey olives. The grapes are, if not thriving, really trying their best to survive. Many of the grapes on the vine look more like raisins. This will probably not be a good vintage year, but what do I know?

We stop in Buonconvento. Roy likes angular towns, and this is one. It is well groomed and its face is washed. Stores are appropriately Chianti-shired (high prices). There is a great old blacksmith shop at the end of town, but it is too hot to spend any time there. A too-cute weathervane is strategically placed outside. We are not fans of Tuscany. It is just "too-too". We prefer the old tufa towns built on hillsides. They have more character to us.

Taking the Cassia all the way to Viterbo, we have lunch in Radiocofani. We happen upon several original Della Robbia's. They are really remarkable. One statue of the Madonna is near the front of the church, and I almost miss her. I do a double-take when I see her, because Della Robbia's work is so distinctive. I have never seen one of his sculptures placed by itself. Everything of his I have seen is in a relief, with the characteristic blue background and figures in white.

There are Della Robbia's in two different churches in this little town, done about 25 years apart...1500 and 1526 to be exact. When we leave the last church, we have lunch at La Grotta, a wonderful small restaurant hidden down a side street. We stumbled upon it, and are lucky we did. Roy ate wonderful Strozzapretti (pasta) in wild boar (chingale) sauce. I ate roast chicken in lemon. The sauce was worth trying to duplicate.

Sofi had little pieces of my chicken and bread, slipped to her secretly as she lay next to my foot. We ate outside and this worked out fine. I am feeling so motherly, cutting up the chicken and making sure it is cold enough for her to eat. She is overly playful, and keeps entertaining herself before I feed her by gnawing on one of the legs of my plastic chair.

We take a short detour to Bolsena and a make a promise to return when it is not in the middle of the afternoon. Sofi sleeps peacefully all the way home.

Although we have loved this trip, we have driven too many miles, and it is time to stay home for a while. We get home to an email from Peggy that she is not coming in August. We will miss her but will see her in November. Another email from Suzanne Ciani that she will return in October....We think we will be guest-less for at least two months. But Marilyn and Bob want to do at least another day trip with us before they leave in two weeks. We will try to think of something.

July 29
Roy is puttering around and hears, "Sofia? Sofia?" and looks up. It is little Federico, who is with his grandmother, Rosina, during the day. He is standing in his skivvies at her balcony. Roy cannot find us, but later Sofi and I go out and look up and greet him.

Later, while Roy is washing the car, someone drives by in his apple green Fiat 500 and looks in. He stops, backs up, and asks if he can leave his car with us to be washed. We look at him as though we can't figure out what he is saying. When it sinks in, we laugh. We don't know who he is...yet.

Tiziano comes by to thank us for the photos of Corpus Domini, and to tell us they will be published in the Bomarzo/Mugnano newsletter that comes out on Sunday. Roy is now a published photographer. This is a wonderful way for us to get to know the people of the village.

I pick about ten San Marzano pomodori, as well as more heirlooms. I will try to "put up" at least one glass container of San Marzanos tomorrow. They are not looking too good, but it is worth a try. I will check out how to do it on the internet.

We are dropping one of our phone lines. Most people call us on the cell phone, anyway.

July 30
We've heard raves about our cold vegetable soup from Marilyn and Bob Smith, so thought we'd mention it here. We are loaded with heirloom tomatoes. That's nothing to complain about, but what to do with them in this hot, hot weather? We also have plenty of zucchini and our pepperoni are maturing daily. Right now these peppers on the vine are mostly green, but some are turning red.

Cold soup sounds great to us, so we chop up whatever we have into small dice, and that means 60% heirloom tomatoes (which have few seeds) with the skin still on (regular tomatoes will be fine, too), a green pepper or two, a cucumber (skin and seeds removed), celery, a zucchini, a couple of onions, 1/2 cup red wine vinegar and 1/2 cup fine olive oil, and a squeeze of lemon, plus salt and pepper. Then put about a quarter of this mixture into a food processor to puree and refrigerate it, all blended, for a couple of hours.

This is a good morning project, giving you plenty of time to chill it before lunch. When you are ready to serve it, dollop it into bowls and put a tablespoon or two of plain youghurt in the center of each. The crunchiness of most of the vegetables are important, so don't puree everything for this one.

Roy also likes it completely pureed, but try the unpureed version first, and see which one you like best. We were sorry we could not get sour cream until we tried the youghurt. The youghourt is really wonderful with this soup. When asked if it will keep, the response is, "Not in my house!" It's that good.

There are a few mentions of the word "fastidio" earlier this month in the journal. We have come to realize that it means "bother". Anyone who knows the Diner family well knows of the favorite Italian phrase they thought they grew up on..."Scusi tanto per la visita", or excuse me very much for the visit. In Italy, when people come to the house, before they enter they say, "Permesso?" meaning, may I enter? They want to say that they hope they are not interrupting anything. They also use the word "fastidio", but I am getting ahead of myself....

Well, growing up, Roy, Adrian, Jay and Christopher heard this "scusi tanto.." often around the house. Many years later, when Pope John Paul II came to San Francisco, he performed a mass that Christopher attended. Seated on the aisle, as the Pope greeted people, Christopher stepped forward and shook the Pope's hand, while he said proudly, "Scusi tanto per la visita", thinking he was saying, "Excuse me very much for the visit." The Pope responded, "Scusata!" or "You are excused."

When we told our Italian friends, they thought this was incorrect. When we asked them why the Pope responded as he did, they said, "How did he know...He is Polish!" The other day, we heard someone say to us, coming up the front stairs, "Scusi tanto per fastidio." Aha. The word "fastidio" sounds like the word "visita".

And now we know why the Pope responded as he did. Actually, he was quite polite. He could have scolded Christopher for shaking his hand. But then again, it is difficult to be angry with Christopher. So, family, now you know the truth. "Scusi tanto per fastidio".

Sofi does not howl or bark, unless I abandon her downstairs and come up to use the computer. So right now she is on my lap, watching what I am typing. She seems quite fascinated. Moreso, I suspect, than some of our readers....She surely has a sweet disposition.

July 31
Last night was the first cool night since the end of May. What a luxury! We sleep in late and go to yoga class. Roy thinks Sofia will just sit next to me. I am very skeptical. When we arrive, she gets a burst of energy, and wants to play. Luckily, Paola, who owns the house where the class is held, has a young daughter who is crazy about dogs. She comes down and sits with Sofia while we do our class. I put my mat in the back of the room right next to her, but she won't keep still.

Class is very distracting, but Paola's daughter does a great job keeping Sofia occupied. At the end of the class, while we are lying doing the "corpse pose", Sofia lies between my knees. She finally rests. We will have to work out some kind of other arrangement during yoga class.

We go to the open market in Attigliano after class, and the fish truck has a huge head of a swordfish (spada) with its long snout. I love swordfish, and Roy gets a fillet for us to grill tonight. The fish is expensive, €22 per kilo, so the fillet costs about €11. That is very expensive by Italian standards. We still cannot fathom how inexpensive most food is in Italy.

At home, Sofia is so tired she lies on her back in some kind of yoga pose and sleeps soundly right through lunch.

Ruppert Murdoch owns SKY TV in Italy and SKY TV purchased Tele Digital. So our cable TV is now SKY TV. We are figuring out how to program it. Watching TV is one of the ways we use to learn Italian.

Speaking about technology, Paul and Glenda sent us a message to look up the site mentioned below. You can download it from here or cut and paste it onto your browser. It takes a few minutes to download, so do be patient. It is worth the wait.

Once you see it, you will have all you need to know about what the Italians are REALLY like. We find ourselves becoming just like them...

http://beta.xko.cz/danny/EUROPE-ITALY.swf Finally, the clouds swarmed overhead, the temperature dropped from 33 to 21 degrees, the wind whipped across the terrace and it poured. For at least five minutes we had our first rain in weeks. What a way to end the month of July....

AUGUST 2003

August 1
Last night was a dream...cool with a breeze that made our bedroom fan almost not necessary. We think we will have a quiet day at the house and sleep late...I get up just before 8:30, and only then because Italo the Fish Monger comes to the village at nine. After I am up we decide not to get fish today. When we sit down for breakfast Roy notices a message on his cell phone. It is Karina, asking us if we want to do a spur of the moment trip to Ostia Antica, an ancient port city near the Rome airport.

Si certo! We call her back and in the next twenty minutes are in our car driving down the A-1. We pick her up and drive to Ostia Antica. We have assignments. Karina is staking out Ostia for a tour she will do on Sunday. Here's what we need to do with her: 1) find a good trattoria and try it out; 2) take a tour of the castle, 3) take a walk through the old ruins, to locate: a) the amphitheatre, b) one of the temples dedicated to the god, Mitra, and c) the Capitolium.

We find a good restaurant, Il Monumento, right outside the wall, and make reservations. We take a tour of the castle, which is fabulous. The guide speaks English, so we are able to really understand what the castle is all about...Originally the castle consisted of just a tower, used to take tolls on the river from ships transporting goods, but when the river was rerouted the castle was added to.

Julius II, who was Michelangelo's major sponsor, commissioned this castle to be built, and the frescoes inside, called grotesques (the word comes from the word grotto, or hidden) are wonderful. Nero's tomb had been discovered just before the castle was built (around 1500 AD) and as a result, the designs from his tomb became quite au courant. Many of the designs are repeated in the walls and ceilings of the hallways going up the spina de pesche steps.

The city outside is also remarkable. We visit it after a wonderful lunch, consisting mostly of an antipasto "fruiti di mare" and housemade ravioli. This is a good choice for Karina and her clients on Sunday. The old city is similar to Pompeii, but built for the common man, instead of noblemen. Inside, we locate yet another amphitheatre. This one is much smaller than the others we have seen lately, and concerts are held here every week. We'll look for upcoming concerts and will definitely return.

In at least two areas of the city, we find design "interns" restoring the tiny mosaic flooring. Sofia and I stand outside the gate of one for about ten minutes and watch them. About 25 meters later on the road, I spot two men restoring a short wall. I call one "Michelangelo" and he replies that his name is Otello. Dressed only in shorts and a gold chain around his dark brown tan neck, he appears to have had plenty of vino with his lunch. Enough said. When we walk by later on our way out, the wall is finished with a coat of cement. No Otello in site.

When we return to our parcheggio, I see Lucia and Silvana walking toward us. I take Sofi down the street to greet them and Silvana tells me that basottos are philosophers. Everyone seems to like basottos in Italy. There aren't so many, but those that we see get lots of attention.

We arrive home to a message from Duccio. He wants to invite us to Nonni Pappa for dinner with friends. Of course we agree, and meet them at the Orte train station to show them the way to our favorite restaurant. Duccio brings Giovanna, his wife, and Francesco, his eldest son, as well as Clara and two Rome/Bomarzo friends, Lili and Ezio.

Sofi has been a big hit all day, and at the restaurant her popularity continues. The chef, Fidelia, and her father owned a Basotto from our breeder, bought ten years ago. They love Sofi, and Fidelia asks if she can take her to the kitchen. I don't have to mention that this would never EVER happen in the U S.

She returns Sofi to me about ten minutes later, during which time everyone at the table teases me that we will have basotto carpaccio, and asks me who our vet is. We tell her we are going to take Sofi to a vet in Orte and she insists we not go there. We must go to a special vet in Terni, Dottore Cristalli, who knows all about Basottos. This is a very good tip. Months ago, when Roy ran into the Orte vet in Terni, he mentioned that we were getting a Basotto and the vet did not know much about them.

The food is marvelous...raviolis stuffed with four different things. As they come out on platters to serve everyone, each presentation is in a special shape...one in the shape of a flower, one in the shape of a heart, one in the shape of a little bag tied at the top...This is one remarkable country restaurant, casual yet innovative. Carlotta, Fidelia's daughter, falls in love with Sofi. Sofi really likes children. This is wonderful news.

We think (magari) that she will have a wonderful disposition and get along well with everyone. She is very playful, but especially after a nap is very submissive. She lets people pick her up and fawn over her and often kisses them. If she's not particularly happy she just hangs there. What a girl.

During the meal, we speak about our trip to Verona. Again, I am mistaken. I thought that the signature piece of music in Nabucco, "Il pensiero" was the Italian national anthem. I am wrong. Duccio and Giovanna tell us that it is a piece of music so loved by the Italian people that most of them know it as if it were their national anthem...That makes sense. The music is too mournful to be a national anthem. I cannot imagine it playing before a calcio (soccer) match!

We arrive home to 23 degree temperature. This has been a lovely day and the weather, although rainy early in the morning and a few showers in the afternoon, could not have been better. We are hoping the hot summer weather has passed.

We arrive home to a message from Lili inviting us to the Orte festa this weekend. We will call her tomorrow. Earlier in the evening, Felice comes to tell us that he had been unable to garden for a week because of the medicine he is taking, but he is fine now. We agree to pull up all the melons. We tell him the melon tastes like compost. He thinks the seeds have come from the hill up above. He thinks the pepperoni are doing fine, and pulls up some tiny red onions from the upper orto garden and washes them off in the old marble sink behind the big olive tree. I give him a heirloom tomato to take home.

He tells Roy the tomatoes are almost finished. I want to ask more questions, but Felice has already left when Roy tells me this news. The little flowers at the top will not turn into fruit, he tells Roy.

August 2
At 9 I call Tia to get the vet's phone number from her Terni phone book. She is able to find it and tells me that she has good news and bad news. Good news is that it finally rained at her casale.

The bad news is that all the new windows leak. This is terrible. So much of the project relies on the windows working...the wood flooring, the special paint treatments, on and on. She is such a good sport, but the stress of this huge project is wearing on her. I wish we could help her, but don't know how.

We get in the car and stop at a bar in Attigliano for café, where the owner, Maurizio, meets Sofi for the first time. Roy likes this little bar. Maurizio and his wife are very friendly. He thinks we are British, and when Roy tells him we are Americans he gives Roy the "thumbs up".

On to Terni, and the vet is a remarkable jolly fellow, dressed in a Frontline t-shirt, displayed with dogs and cats all over the front. He cannot resist talking to anyone who calls or comes in, so it takes an hour for us to finish. In the meantime, he gives us plenty of attention. He knows our breeder, and tells us that she is also a judge. Everyone seems to know and respect her. He also thinks that Sofi is in good health.

We get her third shot and will return at the end of the month for one more. Sofi is now prescribed glucosamine chondroitan, the same medicine we are taking but a much smaller dose, to protect her joints. Basottos need to be careful of their spines, and we need to be mindful of her going downstairs and keep her from jumping.

Tonight we will go to the annual Guardea gnocchi festival. We went three times last year. We invite Kees and Catherine from Giove, but there is a festival in Giove, so they decline. We garden and putter around, and the time passes so quickly that we decide not to go anywhere tonight. We have our nightly cocktails under the stars and it is cool and dreamy.

August 3
We close Sofi in the bathroom, after removing the towels, the rug, putting the shower curtain inside the tub...This is the first time she will have been left alone. We drive up to church, because it is very hot. I take a little Japanese fan and use it many times during the mass. There is no bulletin, so we must wait another week to see Roy's photographs displayed proudly. The church is full, and a replacement priest who is not new to the church performs the mass. He has only one eye, and several sets of glasses, that he puts on and takes off during different parts of the mass.

He loves this particular mass. It is all about people needing more than bread to live. We are not sure what he is saying, but he is so animated and he talks about eating a lot. I have read the liturgy in English before mass, and am thinking while he is gesturing that we need to do more than passively garden.

We need to understand the soil better, the conditions better, the process better. We need to become farmers. We need to learn to sustain ourselves, without relying on the kindness of others. We know that the priest is speaking about how important having faith is and we agree. We know we are blessed.

When we return home, Sofi has been whining, but is playful and happy when Roy opens the door to the bathroom. The rest of the day is very hot, and we all spend it inside, keeping cool, watching movies and documentaries on our new television stations. We do not have a classic movie channel and that is too bad. Otherwise, there is much to watch during these days of 35+ degree weather.

The highlight of Roy's day is the Formula One race in Germany. Juan Montoya wins by an embarrassing amount. Just before the end of the race, Michael Schumacher, everyone's hero, in his Ferrari, has a tire puncture and is out of the race. He takes it in stride and still wins in the points.

It appears the hot weather has returned, with no letup in sight. We continue to cover the remaining tomatoes during the day. Despite the hot weather, most of the roses are thriving. This morning, I fed the roses that are not doing well, to see if this will give them an added boost. Not wanting Sofi to nose around the rose food, I hold her under one arm while I take the big watering can from plant to plant. She hangs like a bunch of spring onions over my arm.

August 4
Roy loves going out in the car. Since the second telecommando for the car has arrived at the dealership, he returns to pick it up while Sofi and I stay home. I am nursing yet another migraine. Perhaps it is from the heat. This morning, I want to get a little extra sleep, but Sofi is full of pep. So I pick her up and put her on the bed with us. Mamma mia she is so happy she wiggles all over the bed, kissing my nose, jumping all over my head, and trying to do the same with Roy, who responds by hiding under the sheet.

After about five minutes of this, I give up and take her downstairs and make her an egg with milk. She sits waiting for her food, not understanding that the egg must cool before she can eat it. She barks out as if to say, "Hey, I am sitting like a good girl. Now where's my food?" She loves everything we give her to eat. Luckily she has stopped last week's exercise of playing with her water dish, splashing her paw in it while she takes a drink.

Late in the day, while Roy is watering with the new bigger hose from the parcheggio, he brings up a "just off the press" summer journal from the parocchiale. He is so excited. On the back page are our pictures of Corpus Domini. But what we don't expect are the words in the accompanying article:

This year, at the end of the procession, Roy and Evanne, new inhabitants of Mugnano, grateful for the welcome that they have received, have given gifts to all, presenting very fragrant bunches of lavender, cultivated with loving care in their beautiful garden that they have in the Tiber Valley. In its country of origin, lavender is symbolic of friendship. Our jaws drop. I remember Livio asking me on Corpus Domini what the significance of the lavender is. We are really moved.

An hour later, Roy takes me to Chia, which is two towns away but in the same province of Viterbo. Dottoressa is on vacation, and we go to see the doctor who is covering for her. I need a new prescription for Vioxx, which I take for ten days a month. It is miraculous for the migraines. We wait almost an hour for him to show up. He is quite gruff. We are thankful for Dottoressa Ofelia and take less than two minutes for him to write up the prescriptions.

I bring Sofia into the farmacia to meet Vezio. He fills out the two prescriptions, one for two boxes of Vioxx and one for two boxes of Imigran(similar to Imitrex for migraines). The cost is €4.

We take Sofia with us later to take out the garbage, and see Paola and Dario, walking down the road below our house. Although she works in Rome, during these days it is too hot to stay in Rome. So she takes the train in and out each day. Ubik is with them, as well as Dario's hunting dog, but I keep Sofia in my arms. She is not ready to nose around other dogs yet. It will be two more weeks. Ubik's big ears stand up tall. Sofi does not seem interested at all in them, but she does wag her tail at Paola.

August 5
We sleep late and Roy returns to Terni. He did not have the spare keys for the telecommando yesterday, so had to return again today to get everything rekeyed. Sofi and I stay home. Today will be another blistering hot day.

This afternoon, we drive to Mt. Cimino, above Soriano, to cool off under the trees. We drive to about 3,000 feet. I suppose you could say this is the Mount Tamalpais of our area, with out the sleeping maiden profile we love so much. Usually, it is about 20 degrees cooler on Mt. Cimino. Not today. In the car, the temperature measured in the mid 40's in Mugnano (over 110 degrees) and when we left Cimino, the temperature was 37 (just under 100).

We returned home and see Lore and Alberto's shutters open, so know they are here. We decide to present Sofi to them, and drive up for a short visit. On the walk from the car, we see the bandieras up all over town. So we will get ours out. We think it is early, at least a week until the festa, but why not. After greeting us, Lore and Alberto bring out the spumante to welcome Sofi. We even give her a little taste. It remains so very hot.

Back at home, Felice has been in the garden for at least an hour. We ask him what we can plant and he tells us it is too hot. Don't plant anything until September. I pick a few heirloom tomatoes and he hands us a few little red onions and the last little melon, which we will refrigerate and try tomorrow.

August 6
The god-awful heat continues. Today it surpasses 110 while we are out. We decide to go to Sorano to pick up the two additional copper lanterns for the terrace, and want to reexplore Sorano and Pittigliano.

We drive up through Gradoli, around Lake Bolsena. Gradoli is a wonderful town to walk around when the weather is better. We drive on to Sorano. Before we reach the town we spot a tower on the right and a sign that says "Orsini Fortezza". Since we have an Orsini Palazzo in our village and there is also one in Bomarzo, we stop to look around.

Inside, we find building after building built out of tufa stones, medieval in character, with glorious views. There is a small hotel, and we look at the rooms. We will certainly stay here sometime. The rooms are very nice, and the cost of the rooms is reasonable...around €120 per night for a double with ensuite bath and breakfast included.

The town, Sorano, is a place worth visiting, and we stumble across a school right inside the Fortezza...check it out. You will find it as: www.artandcraft.org . This is a school held various times during the year for artists and aspiring artists; 6 or 10-day courses in ceramics, sculpture, glassmaking, painting...The classes are over at 2PM each day and there is so much to explore. Sofi is with us, si certo, and people stop what they are doing in each class to come over and greet her. She is literally a showstopper.

We move on to Sorano, and pick up the lanterns, then look around. The heat drags us across the cobblestones, and although we love this little town, it is difficult to do more than get a feel for it and look at the outsides of the buildings.

We drive to Pittigliano, and have pranzo. This is another very beautiful tufa town built high on a kind of mesa. The temperature is over 110 and it is all we can do to find our way back to the car. We take a short walk to the Duomo, which is beautiful, but small. We are too hot to really enjoy this beautiful place.

Strangely, the high point of the day is back in Capodimonte, on the shore of Lake Bolsena. We take Sofi out for a walk and I take her down to the lake's edge to cool her off. This is her first experience with "friendly water". The sand is black, because this area is all volcanic. She noses around at the edge of the lake and I guide her in a little.

She drops down into the wet sand and gets cool. She tries to eat the sand and spits it out a few times. She tiptoes into the water and I encourage her in. She does not really "dunk", but noses around some more. When we think she has had enough for one day, we take her out and dry her off. We look forward to bringing her back when it is not so hot. Will it ever be "not so hot?" Is this the start of the real global warming?

Back at home, the temperature drops to 38 (100 degrees). It is just before 5 PM.

August 7
We awake to great news. Nephew Chris has been promoted to Petty Officer. This is a wonderful thing for Chris and Bernadette and the whole family. We are very proud of him...These days he is somewhere in the Persian Gulf and we are sure is experiencing heat even more excessive than we are. Bravo Chris! We look forward to congratulating you in person in November.

Poor Sofi. She knows something is going on. We take everything off the bathroom floor and put her in with a little cushion, her Goofy toy, and close the door. We decide it is too distracting to take her to yoga. When we return two hours later she is very submissive. We drive to Viterbo with her in my lap, until she climbs up behind my neck and decides to sit there, hiding and looking out, until we arrive where we are going.

Roy is intent on finding a portable wading pool, just enough for us to sit in under the trees during these incredibly hot days. We search all over Viterbo but are unable to find one. It is obvious that we are not the only people with this idea.

We come home to a cool house, and spend the rest of the afternoon inside. Outside the temperature is over 100 degrees.

August 8
We are going to start "putting up" the San Marzano (cooking) tomatoes tomorrow morning. So we buy more glass jars and tops and a little pulverizing machine. If we start before 7AM, we can finish before it gets really hot. We have a hotplate out in the loggia. The loggia is what some people call the summer kitchen. We will boil the glass jars there, and if we are in luck will finish most of the work there.

Tonight we invite Jordano with us to go to the Guardea Gnocci Festival. We did not go last week. When we arrive, there is a theatre group in the square with lots of pieces of scrap wood and many, many tables set up with plane saws. Fathers and sons and daughters, mothers and sons and daughters work away making toys out of the wood...Usually the children stand around while the adults build every thing. Sofi lays right in the middle of things, gnawing on her very own little piece of wood.

We left to take our place and fill out our orders of wine and gnocchi, grilled meats, and cocomero (watermelon). There were booths set up there as well. The one we stopped at donates most of the collected money to the third world village where the hand made objects are produced. They are very interesting. We buy a CD and a round kind of trivit.

Dinner is excellent, as is the service. Giovanni waits on us last year as well, and wants to know where we are from. We ask him what the proceeds go to. There are two festivals...This one ends on August 14th. The proceeds go to the local soccer team. The cinghale festival starts on the 15th, and that festival is to support the care and training of the local hunting dogs which hunt the cinghale.

August 9
We spend most of the morning preparing and bottling the tomatoes. We don't have all that many San Marzano tomatoes ready to pick yet, but are able to produce five jars of tomatoes, in varying sizes. Roy does not want to reuse jars, but Michelle and Catherine tell us they do that all the time. We think everything looks all right until the jars cool down, and there seems to be a separation, with a juicy water at the bottom. I ask Catherine on the phone about it, and she is not concerned.

When we meet Catherine and Kees later at Karen's house, we show them a jar and Kees thinks it is fine. He remembers that his mother's tomatoes always looked like that. Next time, we will not add the rest of the juice at the bottom of the pot, which probably has too much water in it. Otherwise, the spoon test for a good seal is done and is successful. We will process more tomatoes in a week or two, possibly augmented by purchased tomatoes. This is a very interesting process, and we will have tomatoes for the winter, all neatly labeled and stored "backstage" in the rear hallway.

Karen's house is now for sale for €140,000. She purchased it a year ago from Karina, but will not be able to spend enough time here to justify owning it. There are about 25 olive trees on the land, with enough space for a swimming pool. The house needs work, but is in move-in condition. For between € 50,000 and €100,000, the house could be wonderful. We would be willing to be project managers, if a buyer is found. We certainly know the local resources and how to manage the people to do the work.

We want to take a look at the little portable wading pool Karen has purchased, to see if we want to buy it. It is in a box, so we take it and will get chlorine tablets before we set it up. Catherine warns us that without the chlorine it will be a breeding ground for mosquitoes. Two more days until stores open that sell chlorine. No matter. We will try it out on Monday.

Roy hangs out our bandieras for next weekend's festa in our village, and finds little clips to keep them attached to the wires on the wall. When it is windy, the bandieras fly up like kites, which makes our land look like a pirate ship, ready to take off. The bandieras, which we had made in California several years ago, look wonderful. The two big ones are hung on the long wall where the roses are growing. The third one, which is rectangular in shape, is hung in the parcheggio on the back wall facing the cancello.

Lore and Alberto come down for a walk and we take them through the garden. They are surprised by the sight of the lavender, which is truly morte. But these are the most beautiful dead plants you can imagine...each one clipped to a round brown globe. Not to worry. We will replant new lavender in the fall.

Later we take Sofi to the Octoberfest Pub, but it is closed for ferie (vacation). So we walk next door to La Fossate for a pizza, eating outside in the garden. Sofi sits next to me on a chair, not making a sound, even though an old dog waddles around and barks at the moon, all the while wagging her tail.

Sofi looks longingly at several children, but no one comes over to pet her. Sofi loves children and loves to play. So she sits quietly, and when the pizza cools down I give her a crust to play with.

August 10
Church today is crowded with part time people in addition to the regular cast of characters. The same old priest that we had last week performs the mass. He really enjoys giving the homily. I wonder about Don Luca, and how he seems to come up with priests to do the mass for tiny Mugnano. Occasionally Don Luca flies down on his motorcycle to do the mass himself, but he has three churches in Bomarzo to minister to, so Mugnano must be low on his list.

Today, the village is gearing up for our festa. The statue of Maria on a bier, surrounded by white light bulbs, is on the priest's right. The light bulbs are lit, and hanging from Maria's outstretched hand are several sets of rosary beads. Pearl necklaces hang from her neck and pins with the crucifixes are attached to her gown. I am reminded of visiting Don Francis in Isernia several years ago. In the Duomo, during the feast of Saints Cosimo and Damiano, the busts of each saint were festooned with the most fabulous jewelry. Literally hundreds of pieces, from pins to rings to necklaces weighted them down.

After today's mass, we hear that the first event of the festa will take place in the square tomorrow night. Comedians will perform. Lore reminds us playfully that if people speak during the performance she will complain, and we tease her that we will pretend we do not know her if she does.

Roy explains Andy Warhol's comment that everyone gets 15 minutes of fame. Lore's will be dolled out in one-minute increments. She gets applause when she stands up and complains when people talk during a performance. Since she can't sing, we tell her that this is the second best way to get attention.

Tonight Lore and Alberto go with us to Guardea for the gnocci festival, which continues until August 14th. They have never been to Guardea, so we delight in showing them yet another new place. This couple is so knowledgeable about Italian history and culture that we continue to be surprised that we can come up with places to go to or things to do that are new to them.

They agree that the Guardea festival is well organized...so well organized that our table is number 317...No matter, once Roy queues up and pays, the food and drinks come promptly. A family at the next table watch Sofi on the ground beneath me, and the husband comes over with a piece of cooked pork for her. We thank him and for the next ten minutes or so she is engrossed in trying to eat the cube of meat.

The gnocci is wonderful, as usual. We come back to Mugnano and to their terrace to have a little drink and enjoy the evening breeze. We pass by Felice and Marsiglia, who are sitting with the people who have the chicken coop across from us and Sofi is again a charmer. When we walk back to our car later, people are still out all over the village. It is too hot to be inside.

There is a spirit to the village, a knowing feeling of friendship and camaraderie. We walk by the wooden stage set up outside Livio and Gioliola's house, in preparation for tomorrow night's comedians. This will be the first event of the festa. We wonder how much of it we will understand, but no matter.

August 11
We sleep late, and wake to the sounds of a tractor clearing land. It is Marino in his tractor and Francesco Perini's sister, clearing her land directly below us and across the street, next to the chicken coop. By pranzo time, most of the entire area is cleared. We think that no matter what they build they will not harm our view. At the end of the day, we see her leaving and ask what she is going to do.

She tells us she does not have her permit yet, and hopes to have that by the beginning of September. She tells us that she lives in Soriano, where she has a big house with many trees and a beautiful garden. This will be a pied a terre, made of the local tufa, with parking on the street level. We are somewhat relieved. Roy is more than relieved. If the little house is a nice one, we may see if she will rent it out to our friends who come to visit.

Roy spends much of the morning grading the gravel on the raised area outside the living room, under a huge loquat tree, for the portable swimming pool. If we keep Karen's, it will cover most of the area, Her pool is approximately two meters by one meter. He lays nursery cloth out over the gravel and then works on pumping up the pool.

He goes out to try to buy chlorine, but can only buy it in the farmacia, and the farmacist does not know how much to tell him to buy or what ratio he needs. He leaves without buying any chlorine. He finds a conversion on the internet and we will go out later to buy the chlorine.

Yesterday he spent over an hour trying to repair one of his sandals that came apart. Today he drives to Soriano where he takes the sandals to see if he can get them fixed. He is directed to a little man in a tiny doorway. There is no sign. There is no equipment, just a little man with a few tools repairing shoes and handbags.

Roy leaves him the sandals and wants me to go with him tomorrow to see the shop for myself. Soriano is such an interesting town. We love finding these little slices of Italian life, and I am thankful that Roy wanted to share this one with me.

We have trouble converting Italian measurements to our equivalents. I am lost in trying to do a recipe, or buy something at the market, which prices things in kilos. I think in pounds and ounces. So I keep on trying, and know I will get the hang of it eventually. I am starting to get used to the temperature in centigrade...now if I could only get used to grams and kilos I will be less stress about it. Roy has found the answer on the internet. If you want to convert anything metric, you can go to the site: www.convert.french-property.co.uk.

August 12
We drive all around this town, and back through Vallerano, which also looks wonderful, then on to Vignanello, where one of my favorite gardens, Ruspoli, sits behind a moat and castle.

While in Soriano, we find a store that has a child's wading pool, and decide to purchase it to cool off in during these sweltering days, since Karen's is just too large for us. We return through Viterbo, and find the chemicals we need to keep mosquitoes out of the pool while at Obi. Outside, we run into Ula, whose apartment in Bagnaia is almost finished. Ula and Diego's daughter, Serena, is going to France to study cooking with Paul Bocouse (sp?)

We are thrilled, as Diego must be, that she wants to take up the craft. I wonder if all her time at the castello has given her the impetus. Ula does not seem to connect the two, saying that Diego only wants her to be happy. We like Serena very much, and hope that this is a good thing for her.

We also run into David and Alex and their daughters Tomasina and Iseult. This couple is the one who bought the property near Chiusi. They must wait until September for their deal to close. This is a grand undertaking, and we wish them well. They tell us that they will camp out in three rooms there with a wood stove, while they repair and rebuild the rest of it. It must be "expat" day at Obi. Obi is a mini Home Depot, so sooner or later everyone winds up there.

We come home and Roy sets up the little pool. We do not add the chemicals yet, but he rigs up an umbrella to block the afternoon sun, and we sit in the pool, which we have positioned in the raised area outside the living room, under the huge loquat tree. Sofi plays around us, and we are able to enjoy the view and the cool water, in total privacy. Today's temperature reached almost 110 degrees. Perhaps tomorrow I will cook Sofi's breakfast egg on the sidewalk....

Later, while Roy is watering, we hear church bells ring. We wonder if another person in the village has died. We will find out tomorrow when we go up to the village to see Dottoressa.

August 13
Here's this week's Sofia picture, happily keeping out of the sun in her dog house. She is 13 weeks old.

Dottoressa comes up with an interesting observation. She thinks I have arthritis at the top of my spine, which could cause my headaches. This is thanks to my taking Vioxx, which seems to stop the headaches during the days I am taking it. Now I will take it for 2 weeks and stop it for two weeks. If my headaches are true migraines, the Vioxx would not make any difference.

She has also given me a prescription for an eye exam, which will be preliminary to possible eye laser surgery. The medical treatment in Italy is so amazing and so inexpensive. We go to the farmacist in Bomarzo, who calls to make an appointment for me.

At around noon, someone from the village comes to collect for tickets for the performance on Sunday evening. This will be another play, but it will be spoken in the local Bomarze dialect. A few nights ago, we took Sofi up to the village, where another play was taking place.

We could not understand a word, and walked home later. On the way we ran into Maria, who asked us if we left because we did not like the play. Roy responded, "We could not understand it. It was not in Italian!" (The play was spoken in the Napolitano dialect, which is difficult for most Italians to understand.) She agreed with us and later Roy roared with laughter just thinking about the conversation.

August 14
About ten days ago, while we were sitting on the terrace having cocktails, we saw a helicopter with a bucket taking water from the Tiber. We thought there was a fire in nearby Orte. A few days ago, we found out that the fire was right behind us, but the wind blew in the opposite direction so we had no idea where it was. On the side road to Sippiciano, or the back road to Orvietto, the hillside is charred like a side of beef. We were shocked to drive by and see it, and realized that this was what the helicopter was working to save.

The heat continues over 100 degrees today. After yoga, it is all we can do to change our clothes in front of the fan and drive to Amelia to meet Tia and Bruce at their house. The house looks really wonderful. It has been worth all the trouble they have had, and they are almost finished with the work. We meet their friend, Katherine, and another couple who are new to Penna in Teverina, Mario and Jill.

From there, we drive to Al Ponte for their Thursday fish special pranzo: alice (marinated fresh anchovies), prawns, calamari, Spigola, Orate, risotto, a lemon sorbetto... These dishes are all very fresh and tasty. The people in the restaurant treat Sofi like a princess, letting her fan her tiny legs out on the floor and walking around her to serve us.

I apologize and lean down to move her and they want her to stay where she is. When Roy takes her out for a little walk during the meal, two people in the kitchen come out to greet her. I give her a little taste of spigola and a taste of orato and she loves it.

Sofia behaves herself all day, even after being scared out of her wits by poor Ivy, Tia and Bruce's nice old dog, who lets out a huge "Rrrrffff!" when Sofi noses around in the kitchen of their house before we go to Il Ponte.

Later in the evening, just before ten, we decide to walk up to the village to see what is going on with the dancing. On the street, we meet up with parents and several children, not more than four years old, who are delighted with Sofi. Sofi returns the joy by racing around as far as the lead will take her, in and out, between us and the parents and gleeful children, who scream with delight as she darts toward them.

Back at home, while emailing back and forth with Dorothy Slattery of Mill Valley regarding her fall trip to Italy, I am unable to send her a reply. That is strange. An hour earlier the line worked just fine. Roy calls up to me to say that there has been a massive power shortage in most of the Northeast United States, just reported on CNN Europe.

So I shut down the computer and go down to watch the goings on in New York. Our online service company is located in Toronto, so even we in tiny Mugnano thousands of miles away are affected. We are unable to get or send email...for how long?

August 15
The little house with the handpainted "1" on the door, is full of relatives. The village picture becomes clearer. Dina and Italo's son and his wife come out of the door, as does a woman Roy thinks is her mother. We know this woman as Francesca, who we met when she was here during the May festa.

We are "bundling up" a whole group of people in our Mugnano "family" tree...there is clearly a large percentage of the population related to these two families alone. Now if we map out these two families, and Giustino's family, it is possible we will have half of the village accounted for. Now Roy thinks Francesca is not the mother, because why would she have a house here? Unless this is how Dina and Italo's son met his wife? "We will get to the bottom of this!" Roy exclaims when he puts on his sandals.

I'm getting dressed and take a pair of light walking shoes out of my side of the big handpainted armadio in the bedroom. Before I know it, Sofi has one shoe dangling proudly from her mouth, prancing around the bed with it. "Returno la scarpa!" "Dietro!" Roy scolds her while she wags her tail at him. She is so sweet. It is impossible to get angry with her. Sofi has the most wonderful disposition. All we have to do is re-channel her interest and she is a push-over.

I finish getting dressed and Roy goes out to check the water pressure in the garden before we go out to the tour of the Soriano castle. Last night, while watering, Roy noticed that the water pressure in the hose was very low. We don't know if that is because the village is filling up with relatives or we are really getting low on water. Let's hope it is the former. Otherwise, we will have a real problem.

We drive to Soriano for a tour with Tiziano Gasperoni, the young archeologist, in the castle and tower at the very top of Soriano. Walking up and up and up some more we come to a big closed gate. It is just after 10 AM, and we think he will be here for tours at 10:30. Roy plays with the gate and is able to move it to the right, so that we can go in. Is this all right to do? We do not know, and we also do not know where we are supposed to meet Tiziano. Everything is locked. We call him on his cell phone and he is just parking below.

We walk back outside the gate and sit under a peach tree, full of luscious fruit. We bite into a couple of peaches, and the