JANUARY, 2004

January 1
Was it just a few hours ago that we nodded off to dreamland? Today is bright and balmy. This is one of those shirtsleeve days, when the sun, lying low overhead, gets the birds singing early. Sofi and I walk happily, and there is some superstitious thing about the first man one sees on the first day of the year....Once outside the house, it is Marino, smoking a cigarette as he slides out the cab of his truck on the driver's side, just in front of the bus stop. Good thing I am not in the market for a man. This would not be a good year for me....

Back at home, Suzanne and Roy are having coffee and cookies. We drive up to mass, because it is late, but the church is locked. We remember some notice in last week's bulletin that mass will be at a strange time today. Yes, it will be one hour later, Giuliola reminds us, as she leans like a bowsprit out her top window. Later in church she gives me un gran abraccio (a big hug), telling me not to worry that I forgot the time.

When we walk up to church at 10:15, we encounter a very different scene. Walking gives us the chance to see all the spent wine jugs and paper wrappings of the fireworks from last night near the caduti monument. We heard and saw the noise at midnight, but wonder who actually participated in the silliness of the local fireworks.

Before mass, we have a chance to greet people one-by-one to wish them "Auguri!" and "Buon Anno". We remember to pronounce the double "n" in Anno. Otherwise we are referring to someone's behind. I especially like this day, with hugs and double kisses to people in the village we want to greet in a friendlier way. Week by week, month by month, we are welcomed more into the fabric of the village. It is as though we are not dangerous anymore. Neighbors now know they can hug us without the fear of anything evil happening to them.

Today, we give Rosina the Babbo Natale gift for her grandson, Federico, and she smiles so warmly I think the ice has gone from her face permanently. She asks us to come for coffee, "Prende un caffé?" and we will surely do that soon. Elena comes in wearing her New Year's Day mink coat, and Roy gives her the photo of her with Babbo, placed discreetly in a white envelope. The bell rings for mass and everyone takes their seats.

After mass, Elena thanks Babbo for the photo. We introduce Suzanne all around, and she walks back with Lagrimino, who she finds out is Gino. This old guy must be close to 97, but is very upbeat. Today he has more reason for spring in his step. What a way to begin a new year with a beautiful young woman on his arm!

Yes, we have lentils and salsiche for pranzo. It is an Italian custom to eat lentils for the first pranzo, because lentils resemble coins, and it is said that if you eat lentils on the first day of the year, money will come your way.... It is also custom to wear red on New Year's Day....especially red underwear...and Suzanne and I comply. I also wear a red sweater and scarf and Sofi has her red collar and lead. Roy wears a red checked shirt. We are covered...

Tonight we drive to a Capodano (top of the year) concert in Viterbo at Santa Maria Della Verita, a huge stone church located right outside the wall. This concert is a performance of the Orchestra Sinfonica Giovanile di Viterbo, and there must be 50 members, seated at the front of this lovely church. Tiziana and two of her friends, Daniela and Simona, who are first violins and violincellos, are seated in different locations in the orchestra. They must be guest members.

The conductor, or Directtore, is Sergio Magli. He is slim and stylishly bald, but what we notice is that he flays his arms and beats his fists in the air like a man possessed. At one moment, he even folds his arms tightly against his chest like a cartoon chicken (Squak!) No wonder...Verdi's Nabucco, Mascagni's prelude to Cavalleria Rusticana, Wagner's Lohengrin Prelude....plus lots of Johann Strauss are featured in the program. These are heady pieces of music with lots of noise and drums and tympani. Rather a classical music concert for a non-classical audience.

There are so many encores that they start to repeat the encore, Strauss's "Washington Post", twice ...(This is the waltz during which the audience claps to a specific beat and is known as a standard New Year's piece anywhere in the world.) Afterward, we get together with Tiziana and her parents, Renzo and Laura, and invite them for pizza at a favorite nearby restaurant in the medieval quarter of Viterbo. Over pizza, we learn more about the romance between Simona and Giorgio and Suzanne and Tiziana are able to speak as musicians. We hope they will put together a concert for children some day.

For two days, my migraine headaches have returned, and I go up to bed with an icepack. Earlier in the day, Sofi slept by my side as I tried to sleep this latest round of aches away. Soon I will go to Perugia to the national headache clinic there, so for now I will try to remember everything I eat and any stresses that might have triggered this latest bout. I will later remember a peaceful and joyous start to the new year.

January 2
Loredana calls us early to wish us a happy first wedding anniversary...It is a good thing, because we both forgot. Was it only last year that we were married in the tiny chapel at Scarzuola...our second marriage to each other but the first in the Catholic church? Lore remembered because she and Alberto were our witnesses. What a day that was!

Suzanne's plane for Paris leaves today around 3pm, so we decide to drive her to Fiumicino. The connection from Orte is too slow by train. Once there, we kiss her c'e veddiamo and stop at IKEA on the way back, where we have pranzo and pick up hangers, a new tiny rug for Sofi and crispy cookies. It takes us less than an hour to get back home. The sky is dreary and it is very cold. On the way down, the pouring rain could have turned to sleet. The temperature was no more than 36 and we were lucky. Our once-a-year snow day will have to wait.

Luigina comes down the street when we get out of the car in the afternoon and asks us if she can pay us for two more photos with Babbo. Of course we tell her no, we will not accept money, but Ja she can have the photos tomorrow. It pleases us so that we are able to bring little joys to our neighbors.

January 3
Roy and I feel like the walking wounded. He has a cold that won't quit, and my migraines won't go away. It is a beautiful, clear and cold day. When Sofi and I take our walk, we see Terzio jump down from a shortcut up above with an empty plastic bag. He goes across the little road and onto a field, to pick we don't know what. The temperature is very cold, but with my headache I am welcoming the frigid air, and even keep my coat open. Roy meets us in the car on our way back up the hill and we go with him to Attigliano and Bomarzo to do the shopping for today's pranzo with Mario and Jill.

When we return home, the terrace is veiled in bright sunlight. For most of the rest of the middle of the day, it is warm and beautiful. We have a three-hour pranzo before the fire, and when Jill and Mario leave, the cold has returned. We will have a quiet night and tomorrow go to Lili's for a holiday pranzo after mass.

January 4
Sofi has so much energy today; she acts like a little jumping bean. She is frisky on the walk, frisky on the terrace, so I open the gate to the olive tree terrace and she bounds around like a little bird. It is soon time for mass, so she goes back into her cage for an hour or so.

We walk up to church, and Roy remarks on the cold. The sky is clear, and when we greet several people in the church, their hands are like ice. A little musical chairs session takes place, because Rosita comes in with yet another coat, this time pink wool with a mink collar, and she sits right in front of me. Dio mio, the woman who usually sits there has put her wallet on the bench in front of where she usually sits and is at the front of the little church, talking with the young woman who leads all the choral singing.

When she walks back toward her regular seat, there are exchanged glances and several people move in and out of their rows. Rosita has definitely upset this woman's plan. No matter. Giuliola comes in late wearing a mink coat, and flips it up in the back before she sits down. I envy the wonderful conversations between friends and relatives and neighbors in our village before each mass. How long will it be before we can really participate?

After mass, we have breakfast and I prepare a dish for pranzo at Lili's. It is similar to the French potatoes Anna, and is hot out of the oven, just as we leave for her house with Sofi.

At Lili's house, we meet many new friends. Around the long wood table at pranzo are more than a dozen friends, none of which are 100% Italian. French, Belgian, Italian, English, and even Chinese is spoken on this day. Lili asks me how long we have lived here and makes fun of my meager Italian.

We meet two people who saw Mitch Woods at Umbria Jazz, and loved his show and his music. So before the visit is through, we arrange for a party back at Lili's next week for Mitch. While we are having cocktails, a piano tuner works away. So we know the piano will be in tune.

It is very cold when we leave Lili's house around 4:30, and we drive to Chia to see the living presepio. We come upon so many people with the same idea that we are amazed. Roy and Sofi and I park and are not so sure where we are going, but hand-lettered signs lead us down and down and down narrow stairs and paths. We come out at the end of a very long line of people that snakes back up the hill. Lights flicker above, and the line groans slowly. We decide to stay, perhaps because it is warmer in the middle of all these people.

Once we get to the top of the last set of stairs, we see lights ahead of us for at least a mile, meandering along tufa cliffs. The sounds of choirs of children singing holiday tunes envelop us from speakers hidden in the hillsides. Hundreds of citizens dressed in costumes dating back to the time of Christ are interspersed along the way. This unique landscape is so familiar to us; the ancient tufa outcroppings a backdrop on which local people for more than two thousand years lived and toiled and loved and died and were born again in the spirits of their children and their childrens' children.

We follow along a narrow path, protected by wooden railings and lit by tiny lights strung above our heads. Cave by cave, people are working as potters, sewers, cooks, bakers, lace-makers, wine-sellers...No one pays attention to the onlookers, who crowd around each cave and hut as the line moves ever so slowly forward.

Sheep, goats, burrows, cows, chickens...it is all here. People thrashing in pretend-fields, children making goat-cheese, men whittling flutes of wood...this is a truly remarkable sight. We have been told that this is the finest living presepio around, and we agree. One hour later we are through, and walk up the hill with the light of the moon filtering through the bare branches of the trees, and the frost from our breaths leading our way.

I cannot sleep. I want time to stand still, the visions of what we have seen in Chia tonight to remain with us always, as a kind of watchdog. The distracting trappings of consumerism, so rampant in the United States and slowly creeping into the vernacular of Italian culture, are like a Satan to me. I think, "I wish we had ADSL for the computer." And then I realize the computer is not important at all. I think of getting into the car to go to church and remember that, no matter how cold it is, the church is less than a five minute walk.

I no longer think of buying "things", unless they have to do with repairing the house or grounds. I am taking my first stab at making bread this week. We have complained that we don't like the bread we buy, and I think I can come up with breads that will taste wonderful. It will be fun to learn.

We are learning to distill life down to its most simple components. The simpler they are, the more we cherish them. I drift off to sleep with the smell of freshly baked bread in my subconscious.

January 5
I still cannot shake my migraine headaches. Day after day after day they hound me. Perhaps it is the cold weather. We do not go for a walk, and it is very cold...-3 degrees (the mid-20's). I let Sofi out onto the two terraces to run around and then we drive to Giove to meet with the kitchen people about Judith's apartment.

I am wearing warm polartek-like pants to keep me warm, but back into a space heater at the negozio while we are waiting for the plan to be printed and bam! The back of one pant leg melts right through at the calf and luckily does not catch on fire. I feel like the walking wounded, in a daze from all the medicine.

Back at home, Sofi and I go to bed to try to sleep it off for a few hours, while Roy drives on to Soriano to renew our medical certificates for this calendar year...€350 for the two of us.

Stefano comes by in the afternoon to survey the smoke damage above the fireplace. The Ceiling is dirty from soot that has come out of cracks above the fireplace hood. I noticed it for the first time two nights ago, and Roy is alarmed. For all these years, Roy has also been worried that the wooden beams holding up the second floor will buckle and need to be replaced. Stefano tells us that the beams are indeed iron, so no need to worry. He wants to put an oval metal sleeve in the chimney to repair that damage, and will return on Wednesday to see if he can get a sleeve that will be a proper fit.

We will talk with him about making the firebox deeper as a separate project. There is room outside the house behind the fireplace to do this, and I am hoping we can do it for not a lot of money. Right now we burn fires in the corner, but think that if we have a deeper firebox the fireplace will work much better for us.

While Roy is outside, Felice stops by for a chat, and tells us to buy our lemon tree soon so that it can be planted in the big pot by the end of January. Luigina comes up the walk with seven freshly-laid eggs for us. How wonderful. I do not find out until after she has left, so cannot thank her. What a treat. Sofi will have an egg tomorrow for breakfast. Roy bought some thin veal medallions when he was out, so we will probably have cotolete Milanese (breaded veal with an egg on top and an anchovie on top of the egg) tomorrow night. Roy loves this dish...It is reminiscent of the three years he lived in Germany.

January 6
Today is Epifany, but the children know this day as the Day of the Befana. Children receive stockings filled with candies from the Befana, or ugly witch. Tradition has it that the Magi stopped at her hut on their way to the manger after Christ was born, but she refused them hospitality, so they moved on. She then thought better of her decision and tried to find them, without success, and so she continues to search for them, and the Christ Child, year after year.

Speaking of the Magi, when Roy showed Mario our presepio a few days ago, Mario laughed that the Magi already stood proudly outside the hut where Jesus and Mary and the Christ Child are displayed. So not only do we need to hide the Christ Child until late Christmas Eve, we need to keep the Magi hidden until late tonight....Then tomorrow the whole display comes down for another year.

There is a mass this morning, and tonight there is another mass. Tonight's mass is to celebrate the special reliquaries owned by our tiny church. When Don Francis came to visit last year and performed a mass, he was shown these treasures, and was very impressed.

Today we have pranzo with Tia and Bruce at Antico Borgo in Bassano-in-Teverina. They are just back from the holidays in India, where it was foggy and not a lot of fun for them. But before they arrive, Mauro and Federico's father come by to speak with Roy. I think they are collecting for another raffle, but no. They are asking Roy if he wants to become a member of the Mugnano Confraternity! Gianfranco is the priori, or head of the group, and it was thought that Roy is a member of the Confraternity of Orte, because he participates in the processions and also acts as Babbo for the town. No, Roy responds, I am just a friend of the man who runs the Pro Loco office.

Roy does not accept right away. He is not sure his Italian is good enough. But Mauro tells him to let him know when he is ready. When Roy comes in to tell me, I am sitting cross-legged, organizing our CD's on the living room floor. I am so proud of Roy! He is surprised that I am so excited, and we talk about it a little. This means that now we are really accepted as an integral part of the village. I must say that I never EVER thought this would happen.

I think Roy will change his mind, and spend the next hour imagining him in his red and blue robe, participating with the others in leading the processions during feast days. January 25th is the next feast day of the village, San Vincenzo, so I hope he will decide soon. He will have to buy the medallion that he will wear around his neck, for €25, and we will find out if I need to make his costume. Roy slowly gears up like an old sports car, but once his engine gets going, he will embraces his role with great gusto!

January 7
Last night the mass was an amazing experience. The reliquaries in our church are quite spectacular, but we are not sure what they actually are. Is it possible they are actual parts of bodies of saints? The Confraternity and Don Luca participate in the benediction, and a member of the Confraternity hands Don Luca each one. While he holds it up to the congregation, Vincenzo chants something that relates to that particular reliquary. Our priest gets very emotional, and his arms are raised on high as he extols the saints, whose reliquaries surround him. The little church is full, and children enjoy participating in this seemingly pagan ceremony. Roy watches the members of the Confraternity closely, to see what their roles are. Before he agrees to anything, he wants to speak with young Tiziano, who can tell him the plusses and minuses of joining this group.

This morning, it is very cold for the walk. Both Sofi and I enjoy these morning walks very much. I am not a lover of cold weather, but somehow I look forward to walking with our little dog. Each day, we see something new. Today, while she nuzzles something on the path outside one of the chicken coops, I notice how it has been made with found wood and wire.

The country people are a resourceful lot, and I am feeling guilty about some of the food that we cook that goes to waste. Of the cooked food that is not right for compost, we throw out more than we should. We work on not buying too much, but I think I can make food for us without even going to the store for a long time, except for perishables. I am going to see how independent we can be, and perhaps even make a game of it.

Pat and Margaret sent a bread recipe with their holiday card, and I make my first loaves of bread this afternoon. I alter the recipe to add chopped rosemarino. It does not rise as much as I think it should, even after letting it rise twice the amount of time specified. Perhaps it is the little package of lievito that we use for yeast. I will make bread again in a few days, this time with olive oil instead of butter. It is so easy to do that I want to venture into more elaborate breads...I'll post the recipe on the food page, in case anyone wants to try it. Thanks, Pat and Margaret.

Speaking of friends in the US, say a prayer for Donna Pizzi, wife of Phillip Thompson, living in Portland. She is going through some medical tests, and we lit a candle for her in church yesterday. She has been ill for too long. Let's hope this is a good year for her.

We have a leak below our new sink, and Enzo's assistant, Fabrizio, comes by and changes a small part, in about twenty minutes. I am sure it will not cost more than about €10. We are still waiting for Enzo to install the towel warmer, but that can wait.

Roy calls about the dishwasher, and the new price is a good one. It will be installed either Friday or Tuesday. The dishwasher is really the only real luxury we afford ourselves these days...I really love dishes, and using lots of them. So having a dishwasher is very helpful.

I take out the Modo de Dire book (book of Italian proverbs) and try to study it. We go to Dottoressa this afternoon for our third tetanus shots, and while we are in the waiting room I read some of them out loud to a captive audience, who take turns re-pronouncing the phrases and nodding their heads in agreement. We find out that the shots will last us for ten years. So no fear in the garden with the roses any more...well, for ten years or so. I wonder if Roy's handheld computer will be able to note ten years hence...What ever will life be like for us then?

January 8
We drive to Sipicciano, and when we get out of the car, Danieli and Duccio's sister, Donatella, have their heads down, talking seriously with each other, next to the caduti monument. Everything is gray: Daniele's clothes, the sky, the air, the monument, the pavement, except for Donatella's bright blond hair and red lips. The proverbial Toscani cigarette hangs out of her soft jaw. Her eyes light up at the sight of Sofia.

Daniele goes into his shop, and we ask Donatella how she is. Not good. She is Duccio's sister, and their uncle, who they love, has died. And now, the mayor of her town has been recalled and there is no mayor. I suggest that Donatella become the mayor and she responds, "This place is like the Taliban. No room for a woman here." When I remind her that Tiziana became mayor of Bomarzo, she replies that Bomarzo is far more civilized than Sipicciano. Sipicciano is a Frazione of Graffignano, where the big castle sits like a bucket of mud in the middle of the town. Donatella uses the rooms of the castle to show off the artwork of her many undiscovered artist protégées. And now, without a mayor friendly to her cause, she is probably without a proper venue for her work.

Daniele does my hair, while Roy and Sofi wait in the car. Sofi cries and cries, so they come in and sit next to the heater while I am finished. Afterward, we drive to Orte and I leave my name for the next appointment at the rehab. clinic at the hospital. It will probably take three weeks to begin treatments again on my shoulder.

The rest of the day is quiet, with a pot of lentils and salsiche on the stove.

January 9
Jill wants to buy raspberry bushes, and Alan recommends that she go to Pinzaglia, the Vivaio in Bassano. We email her to not go there, offering to take her to a few vivaios in Viterbo instead. We do not like Pinzaglia. They do not take good care of their plants, and we have been taught well by Sarah Hammond to buy the best quality and they will prosper and live the longest. Nothing we have purchased from Pinzaglia has ever done well.

I call Jill to check in with her, and when the window people finish their appointment with her, she will meet up with us. Roy is in Terni getting the car serviced and paying for the auto insurance. He'll be back late morning so we'll have time. If we go to Michelini, they are holding a rose for us. I want to check out Lopez before going to Michelini, to see what they have. Their prices are very good, suggests Tia, and we will check out their quality. They may only have trees. We will see.

January is an important time to plan gardens. The ground is wet and bare root planting is done now. I stand looking out the window at the new fencing. It is without character or charm, except for the handmade clasp on the gate. We will plant osmanthus down below in front of the wall, with a few mermaid roses. I think I'd also like a rambler on the old tufa short wall perpendicular to the new wall. Some kind of rose that will give us hearty blossoms with strong stems, probably peach in color.

We're gearing up for a party on Monday night at Lili's for Mitch Woods. He arrives from Rome on Monday and we will have dinner and jazz at her country house. It will be fun. In the meantime, I check in with Prue, to learn that she has her dog, Dizzy, back after her several week trip to the US, and is seriously training her.

January 10
The fog outside our window is reminiscent of an English moor. The air is so fragrant and full of sound that I hear what sounds like hundreds and hundreds of little birds, hiding in the bushes in the street below. The walk goes quickly; I put the hood up on my long coat and feel as if Sofi and I are in another country.

Jill arrives soon after nine while we are having coffee and toast, and joins us for a little cup. We no longer drink out of big cups. Coffee stays hot longer in the pot, and we fill the cups up when we finish our first set. I especially like the thin lips on the little cups, and the tiny spoons. Feels like a doll house treat. I am so happy with little details.

Jill wants to go with us in our car to the Viterbo vivaios, thinking that if she buys a plant or two it will be a small one. She wants little raspberry bushes and will try to plant them today, before she goes back to Strasbourg, where she and Mario live for most of the year.

We drive up the hill to Bomarzo, and at the stop sign where we turn left there is a big poster outside the giornali with today's big news. MAXI FURTO VIVAIO MICHELLINI! A big theft! We are wearing our raincoats and are ready for some investigating...We will find out the details right from Michellini himself in less than an hour.

Off we go, first looking for Vivaio Lopez, which Tia stumbled upon weeks ago. Roy thinks he knows where it is, but we cannot find the sign. We drive almost all the way to Vitorchiano and turn around. Then we see a little blue sign, only in view from one direction.

The vivaio is next to a modern house, and next to Michellini it is rather pedestrian. No matter, winter is no time to judge a vivaio. Jill finds two tiny plants for €5 each. Now it is on to Michellini.

The owner of Michellini, Tiziana's husband, meets us as we get out of the car and we ask him breathlessly what has happened. A bobcat was stolen, some other equipment, some cash. Later, when we speak with Tiziana, she is not too concerned. Life goes on. Strangely enough, Italians are used to theft. Everyone we meet has at least one story to tell...

Tiziana kindly takes Jill all around the property, showing her plants that will do well under oak trees. Jill does not know how much space she needs to cover; Roy asks Tiziana how long the path is in front of the office and she bounds off, pacing all the way to the front gate. When she returns, we agree that Jill will map out what they need and Tiziana will write out a preventivo for her to work with.

We find just the right olive trees we want. At first, the ones we want are too expensive. Then, in another part of the vivaio, Tiziana finds us trees of the same age and approximate height for less money. We will come back in a week to place the order and have them deliver them to us. Their lemon trees are expensive...We will look elsewhere to see if we can find one at a better price. If not, we will get our lemon tree from them, as well.

We come back through Il Pallone, and show Jill our favorite supermarket, SuperConti. Sofi gets sick in the car on the way home. She ate a few olives at the vivaio and it is not a pretty sight. We get home, pack up Jill with her new plants; she bought two from Michellini as well, and will see whose plants do better. We agree that we will visit Jill tomorrow before going to Alan and Wendy's for pranzo.

After today's pranzo, we pick up Tiziano at his home and drive him to the archeological museum in Amelia, after showing him Judith's apartment and checking on some details there. On the drive, we tell him that we went to the living presepio in Chia and were impressed. He makes us laugh by telling us that the people from Chia are called Chianese. They are not thought of as very smart people. There is a mean joke that people who are stupid are not called stupid, they are called Chiano. So I ask him what people from Mugnano are thought to be. He said they are thought to be sleepy and tranquil and slow to move, like snails. For the rest of the visit, we joke about being sleepy and slow. The reference is fine with us. No wonder everyone refers to Mugnano as being "sempre tranquillo".

Also on the way to Amelia, Roy asks Tiziano what it means to be a member of the Mugnano Confraternity. Is there some rite? Some secret bond he would be pledging himself to? But no, it is an honor, but an honor to serve the priest during feast days and other religious celebrations. An honor to wear the blue and red vestments and medallion, to lead the people of the village during processions, but otherwise nothing.

I joke that there is little or no conversation between the members of the Confraternity, and we all laugh. That part will be easy. Roy jokes that he needs to find the right plastic bag to keep the costume in. All the men walk into the church holding plastic bags with their costumes inside, and get dressed in the little anteroom right off the altar. On some days there are twenty of them...I suggest that Roy brings his on a hanger, but he will have none of that.

Roy is confident that he can now accept, and will tell Mauro tomorrow, after church.

Today's lesson is all for Tiziano and is conducted entirely in English. He wants to learn how to give the whole museum tour easily in English. We learn a great deal as well, and are very impressed with the museum. Week by week, we are learning more about the Romans, and even more importantly, the Etruscans.

It is very possible that there are some items in Mugnano that date back to the Bronze Age, and together we will see if we can help him find some. My father must be so happy;

he and I dreamed that we would go on an archeological dig when I got out of college. That never happened, but the dream is still alive.

On the way back, Tiziano gets us dizzy with the names and connections of many more people in the village. Roy wants to draw a street map, putting the different families in each location. I want to do a family tree for Mugnano, and am feeling quite confident. I think we know at least 60% of the names of the people who attend church.

At home, we make a chocolate polenta cake, with polenta instead of flour and not much sugar, but five egg whites. The cake comes out tall and lovely, but droops after a few minutes. Who knows how it will taste. We are taking it to Alan's tomorrow and will see.....

January 11
Guns sound off, but it is Sunday. On Saturdays and Sundays the hunters are out early. Sofi and I hear the birds on this lovely clear day, but perhaps they are warning each other to beware.

Roy and I walk up to church. I comment about Tiziano's watchful eye. He notices so much. Yesterday, while waiting for Roy to lock the door to Judith's apartment, he looked across the tiny street and found four small brown catapult balls, embedded as part of the old wall. We could have looked at that wall for years and never noticed them. During his tour yesterday at the museum, Tiziano showed us photographs and actual segments of old walls, with pediments and beautiful carvings as part of the walls themselves.

Roy asked if those were accidents; if they were pieces of carved stone left on the road that were used to add to the wall. Yes and no. The builders of the wall also added them for beauty. He has a trained eye for those things. We will now be watchful, training our eyes on ancient walls to see what treasures we can find.

I remember visiting museums with my father on Sundays as a young girl. Dad especially liked the artist, Durer. He hid his initials in the midst of his drawings and paintings, and we had a good time finding them. Many years later, I gave my father framed Durer prints to put in his bedroom, but they disappeared along with many other things. I still have that memory, and now will think of him when discovering little "finds", like the four catapulto in the ancient Amelia wall.

Below Judith's apartment, in the square, Tiziano took us over to two important measurements on a wall, also on yesterday's visit. They were 66cm and 36cm in length, and were considered the official standards of measurements for mattone (bricks) of the day. He told us this measurement was "Medieval". Today, while we are walking up to church, Roy comments, "Medieval. What is that? A 1,000 - year leeway? The Italians are funny. Medieval, more or less... A certo punto...He thinks even their word "preciso" is "piu o meno".

On a paper in his pocket, Roy has written a few sentences in Italian, accepting his role in the Confraternity. He is memorizing them, to say to Mauro after church.

"Sono onorato dal suo invito congiungere la confraternita...Accetto, con onore, il suo invito essere un membro della confraternita....Sono onorato."

He will use some or all of this when approaching Mauro.

After church, we stand outside greeting Felice and Marsiglia, and when they turn to walk home Roy decides to go back into church to speak with Mauro. I stand outside, facing the old tower. Two windows face me from that distant spot, and they look like round mouths, saying, "OOOOO...I know you are there."

A few minutes later, Roy comes out. He has accepted, modifying what he memorized. Anyway, he accepts with honor. A discussion ensues with Giuliola about his costume, but Mauro needs to write up a document for Roy to sign first. The costume, and Roy's medallion, will come later.

Next Saturday is the feast day of Saint Antonio D'Abate, the patron saint of animals, and there will be a benediction for the animals. Si certo! We will be there with Sofia. Perhaps the Confraternity will be present. Will this be Roy's initiation?

Today we go home to spend a little time with Sofi before we leave her again to go to Jill's and then Alan's for pranzo. Poor Sofi is left at home. I am afraid there will be too many dogs and people and opportunities for her to get lost.

We find Jill and Mario's sweet pink house easily, and cannot imagine it is only 20 years old. The way it is situated on the land, the shapes of the rooms, the design of the fireplace all seem more country French than Italian. Roy and I love the house. There are some large cracks in the walls, but there is a plan to deal with them soon. I can imagine the house in years to come. It will be magical, I am sure.

She shows us telephone lines that they want to have buried underground, and I remember that Alan did that as well. Good idea. If we can have two buried that stand on the street below our property, the view will be even more beautiful. We will remember to ask Alan how he did it and find out how much it will cost. Perhaps we will do it when the rest of the major work is done in the spring in the village.

Jill gives us two just-laid eggs for tomorrow's breakfast, because she will be leaving early tomorrow to return to their home in Strasbourg. We look forward to her next visit, and to getting to know them both better.

Jill has spoken with the man who sold them the house, who is a capo of the bocce courts in Penna. She told him we were looking for a mentor to advise us about putting in a court in Mugnano. Si certo! He would love to help, and looks forward to Roy's call. We will call him this next week.

Two neighbors come by, and we all walk down to Alan's house. Alan's house is big and broad with lots of grass and plenty of room to walk around. It is one of those gorgeous warm winter days, and we are able to sit outside at a long ceramic table before we eat. I walk around the garden with Tia, and we talk about garden plans, and commiserate about our Glorie di Dijon roses, which we both love but are not happy.

Wendy asks me if Roy has joined the Confraternity and I am shocked that she knows, until Alan tells me he knows all about it from our web site. I am always amazed to hear that people actually read it. She asks Roy later and he thinks I have told her. It is only in the car later that he realizes I did not.

Simona sits next to Roy at the delicious buffet pranzo and rolls her eyes when she hears that Roy will become a member of the Confraternity. She has lived in Amelia all her life and does not think much of the whole Confraternity thing. I suppose she thinks of it as an old boys club, or comprised of "squares" who are ex-altar boys. No matter. We are stranieri, and the fact that Roy was asked is a real honor. It is really good to see Wendy. I ask her when their six house guests are leaving, and offer to spend a day with her before she leaves again. That will be fun...just the two of us.

We come home and wait for Paola and Antonio to come by. It is dark when they arrive, but we walk over to the stairs just above where the campo di bocce will be built, to show him the plan. Back in the house, where we sit having coffee in front of the fireplace, Roy goes over our idea with them.

Antonio and Paola will start to ask people in the village if they have an interest in being involved in building the court and if they will play. Our job is to find someone to design the court. Antonio will see what kind of interest he can drum up within the Universidad di Agraria, of which he is president. We will pay for the design and materials, and he will see if he can get a group of people together who want to volunteer to build it. There will be a gate to the court that will be open to the people of Mugnano, for them to use anytime.

We tell Antonio and Paola that the sindaco has promised us that in the spring, when the main reconstruction project is done in the square, that they will build up the bank below and put in a handrail on the little public walkway below our house that leads to San Rocco, and the proposed bocce court.

Antonio tells us that he likes the project very much. He wants to be involved in the meeting where we show the man from Penna the site and speak about it. Roy wants to make sure that the court is made just right. There is no room for error in a bocce court. In the towns around, there are only men who play, but Paola thinks it might be fun to have women, too. In Amelia women play by themselves, but never with the men. In Mugnano, anything is possible.

After they leave, we call Elizabeth and make final plans for tomorrow night's party at her country house. Steve and Darcy will come, and Steve plays the double bass. Darcy plays the sax, but may not bring it. Two friends of Elizabeth's play recorders, which are like flutes, and of course there will be Mitch at the piano. In the kitchen, around her long table, we will eat simple food and drink wine. Catherine and Kaas, and Aurora from Orvieto and Mitch will all go with us. Prue and Steve and Darcy will meet us there. Elizabeth's children and a few of her friends will also be there. I will make a big baked pasta dish and it will be fun.

There is always so much to do....and we are enjoying almost every minute of it!

January 12
I wake up to the sound of Mario opening up the front gates and bringing up scaffolding to trim the bay tree. Dino is behind him. I get dressed and take Sofi for a walk. When I return, Roy and Dino are supervising Mario, who is way up in the tree. By now, the bay tree on the front terrace is almost as high as the house. In the years we have owned this property, the tree has changed from a tall slim specimen to a big and blowsy and full tree. A few years ago, we had Mario cut the tops of many branches, and now it gives us plenty of shade. But it needs to be trimmed. Above, Rosina and Marie and Gino are happy, for it will give them their great views back.

By the time Mario and Dino are through, I think they have cut too much, but I see that the tree needs a pruning every year. Dino is really masterful, and I want to be sure he is involved in any other tree pruning. The terrace is full of branches, and they take them off to the bocce court property to be trimmed, the big branches cut for firewood and the rest burned. They make a great team. They will return in two weeks to work on the rest of the trees and, before spring, will redo the little steps leading up to the potato field, where we previously grew melanzane, zucchini and cappuccia.

Karina comes by for a cup of coffee, and we convince her to stay for tonight's party. I come up with some makeup and lend her a blue scarf to match her eyes and she is all set. She sits in the kitchen with me while I make a baked penne with béchamel and grated Parmesan cheese for tonight. We have pranzo and then leave while Maria, who is Mario's wife, comes to clean. Mitch arrives on the train at Orte at 5 and we take a quick tour through the old city of Orte and then come home to get ready to lead the caravan of friends to Elizabeth's just before 7.

We drive to Orte in the dark, but the car knows its way down the rocky strada bianca to its destination. The party gears up quickly and before it is through several hours later, more than 30 friends arrive and eat and drink and boogie to Mitch on an old upright piano and Steve on bass. They play jazz and boogie-woogie in an ante-room off the living room that is a perfect size. Aurora joins them on cymbals and those of us old enough to have it in our bones do the twist.

Courtesy of Graham Hunt, photographer, here are Mitch and Steve in Elizabeth's anteroom off the living room.

Karina is a big hit, dancing rock-n-roll with Catherine, swinging her around and weaving around the floor. Later, Karina tells me that she and her sisters learned to dance together, and she always played "the boy's part". So when she later really danced with boys, she had trouble leaning back and letting them lead. Tonight, she is masterful and full of life.

As usual at Elizabeth's house, lots of countries are represented. Almost everyone speaks English, but then there is: Italian, French, Belgian, German...Her house is large and open and there is plenty of room for everyone, who congregate mainly in the living rooms. We leave happy and tired and ready for a good night's sleep before tomorrow's escapade through Umbria and Tuscany to show Mitch Perugia on the way up and then wine towns on the way back. This time, Sofi will be with us all the way. I missed her tonight.

January 13
Roy and Sofi and I leave with Mitch around 9am for a day of exploring. First we drive along the E-45 to Ripabianca to see Carlo about getting one more mezzo-lune pot for the front walk. Mitch can't resist getting a house tile made, and we will save it for him when he comes back to play Umbria Jazz in July. The pot sleeps like a croissant in the hatch-back, with plenty of room for wine bottles to nestle inside.

Before we leave, Carlo's brother, the one who actually designs the pots, invites me to go with him to his house next door. When we arrive at the front door, he turns a switch and his whole front yard is lit with tiny lights and hand-crafted terra cotta figures and buildings...a masterful presepio with hundreds of pieces. He tells us that his wife created each piece and designed the entire project. How kind of him to share this with us!

Then it's on to Perugia, where we walk around and show Mitch the various venues where he will probably play. We stop in at the Umbria Jazz office, which we find across from the main fountain and up three flights in an elevator so small that Mitch and Sofi and I just about fill it up. Roy meets us as the elevator door opens, taking the ancient spina di pesce steps up to the top.

It's time to be on our way across the north side of Lago Trasimeno to Tuscany. We arrive in Pienza for pranzo before 2pm, and have a walk in the town and a light pranzo at a trattoria, sharing several dishes between us. We are served feather-light flat noodles with porcini sauce and a baked pecorino, a house specialty. I don't think I have ever tasted such wonderful pasta. When we want to thank the chef, we are told the chef is "mama" by her two sons. We can't resist drinking a bottle of wine with the meal and then it is time to drive on to Montalcino, the home of Brunello wine. But first a stop at a cheese shop for a piece of pecorino and some flavored salsa to serve with it later at home.

We each have a wine book, and decide to search out a few tiny wineries for Brunello. One that was recommended is not only hard to find... a woman is down on her knees in the middle of a rose garden when we do find the gate and doesn't feel like getting up to talk with us about their wine. "Call for an appointment" is all we can get out of her.

Getting lost is a fun thing to do in the country. You never know what you'll stumble across. While trying to find this winery, we drive right up next to the vines on a dusty strada bianca, vines which are so exquisitely trained that they do not look real. We call Poggio Antico, another highly respected Brunello winery, and they agree to see us. Do we go before or after the Fortezza in Montalcino? Let's go before...the light is starting to go....

We arrive up a drive flanked by about one thousand huge cypress trees. This winery is also a restaurant, and although they are not a huge wine producer, their operation is very sophisticated. After some searching around, Roy finds Alberto, who speaks some English and charms us with his bright blue eyes into buying more than we had planned. No matter, this is a very helpful stop in our education of Italian red wines. He also gives us each a wine map of "Brunello country" and a booklet. We have much to study...and to learn...about this heady wine.

Outside the little showroom, the dark sky has a blaze of red shooting across it behind the cypress trees. Mitch takes some footage with his video camera and Sofi darts around on the lawn. I am feeling mellow and looking forward to a sleep in the car. Instead, we drive to Montalcino. It is dark when we arrive outside the fort, after one wrong turn and a drive down a deserted dirt road to nowhere. Back up the hill, Roy finds his way to the right down a tiny street, which eventually leads us to the parking lot we have been looking for.

Inside the Fortezza the enoteca is getting ready to close. They send us outside to an enoteca across the street; one that in turn sends us a few blocks around the corner and to the right. Roy and Mitch find the enoteca, and get started tasting. They sit happily in the back room, surrounded by hundreds of bottles of Brunello while Sofi and I take a walk and a glance inside an upscale kitchen store.

To have a Brunello tasting, there is a cost, sometimes €12-15 or more for a particular year. If you imagine that the bottle costs a minimum of €25, that is very reasonable. While the wine sits in three Riedel glasses each, they are served a tiny plate of toothpick-plunked prosciutto and cheese hors d'oeuvres with tasty flaky crusts. Roy seems to play with his three glasses, and I almost imagine him trying to play a tune with them. He does not take this experience very seriously, but then again, we can always go back.

It is inky black outside when we finally return to the car, but still a mild 12 degrees. We arrive home just before 8:30, and I start to make risotto Milanese with chicken and a first course of pecorino with apples and pears and spicy conserves (pear and pepperoncino and onion) and local red wine. I toast some of my homemade cheese bread to serve with the risotto and we serve a bottle of Brunello that Mitch bought at the enoteca for us to drink at dinner. More than three hours later, we drag ourselves up to bed.

It is so much fun having friends sit around and gab and listen to music.

January 14
I do not want to get up. I drag myself out of bed around ten, and Mitch and Roy have the same idea. Sofi is an angel, just waiting. No walk this morning, but we do all go on a grand walk of the village around noon, in time to buy porchetta from the truck for a snack before Mitch takes the train to Rome. He has his video camera, shooting footage and talking into the machine, scaring all the natives. The man who has a little booth selling jeans and polyester clothes and underwear on Wednesday mornings asks Mitch if he is from CNN. He then looks at me shyly and asks me about Suzanne. I think he has been dreaming about her, for when I tell her she has gone, he looks sad, and continues to pack up his boxes in his truck. It is time for pranzo.

Sofi and I take the loop for an extra-long walk but the boys go home. Shelly comes by for coffee and to return a book. Before we know it, it is time for Mitch to go. So goodbye until July and then we'll pick up with him where we left off.

Today is so clear and warm that I open the kitchen window wide when I get up and leave it open. When we go for a walk, I wear only a thin sweater. After Mitch leaves, I sit on the steps looking toward San Rocco. Roy comes back from the train station and I hear his footsteps on the gravel behind me. I lean back to welcome him and see a lone bird flying way overhead above me. The sky is so blue for as far as I can see that it feels like a blanket, enveloping the earth in its sweet warmness. Roy sits down beside me and we quietly watch Sofi bound from terrace to terrace.

I look on the internet to see when the opera Aida will be playing at the Arena in Verona this summer. We will give the dates to Angie, and when she tells us the dates that she can sit for us and take care of Sofi, we will return to our favorite tiny inn and to see this signature opera of Verona.

I want to start gardening outside, but am too buzzed from all that red wine yesterday. So I will let it go for another day, and sit here writing while Sofi snoozes on a pillow next to the computer.

Late in the evening, Sofi gets sick. After a day of joyous bounding around, she seems like a different dog. By the time I take her up to go to bed and put her in her cage, she acts like a drooped daisy.

In the 22+ years we have owned dogs, Roy has never allowed a dog to be on our bed. Tonight, Sofi gets sick in her cage two times before midnight. The last time, I turn on the light and bring her to bed with us. Roy does not say a word. I place her on the edge of the bed and lie in the middle, holding her. She lies quietly.

January 15
The night ends with Sofi getting sick one more time. I stay awake for most of the early morning, but after dawn we both sleep soundly for a couple of hours. Instead of going to yoga, we take her to the vet in Terni. She is unable to eat a little scrambled egg, and just lies on the sofa in the kitchen until we leave, her sad glazed eyes like little M+M's; her beard sour.

At the vet, we have to wait more than an hour, but do see Dr. Cristalli. While we wait, she lies in my lap, covered by my winter scarf, and shivers while I stroke her back. We cannot figure out what caused her to be ill, and he seriously checks her out and then gives her an injection of antibiotics and a prescription of pills for us to give her for eight days. Her temperature is just a little above normal.

Sofi is lethargic back at home, and after a small pranzo, she and I go up to bed and sleep for a couple of hours. She lies on the bed next to me while I read Mystic River, and then we nod off soundly until the light outside turns navy blue and Roy comes in to see how we are. As the night descends, she sleeps quietly on the couch and then stretches out on her bed upstairs. Usually she sleeps curled up like a croissant, but tonight her long tiny body reaches all the way across the cage, sighing that her energy will return.

January 16
Sofi had a much better night, only getting sick once. She gets up slowly, and is able to eat a scrambled egg. Her spirits are good, and the cold air outside and the breakfast invigorate her. She is happy now, if not a little weak. Last evening we gave her a new toy, a soft, white lamb. I am reminded of being sick as a child, and of getting a toy or another small present after a trip to the doctor.

I go upstairs to add to the journal, and she whimpers downstairs. Roy lets her come up, and she slides across the terrazzo floor in our bedroom to me, wagging her tail and almost smiling.

Hour by hour, Sofi comes more and more back to life. She is able to eat both pranzo and cena, and when Angie comes for tea, whimpers and wiggles and sits in our laps and kisses us. Angie so loves the animals, and we talk about the festas this weekend and which ones she will go to. She suspects there will be chickens and rabbits and sheep and horses in addition to the usual suspects...the dogs and cats.

Roy goes out to Viterbo and to take photos of the bonfire at Bagnaia. This weekend is the feast of Sant'Antonio Abate. Here's what we know from Father Francis Tiso about that:

"As for Sant'Antonio Abate, throughout rural Europe he is the patron of the domestic animals, not St. Francis. In many barns you will find his picture, protecting animals from demons, because envious neighbors launch spells against the animals and against the fields and St. Anthony was the master of combat against the demons, if you read his biography by St.Athanasius you will see why.

To keep St. Anthony happy, the contadini would raise a pig communally, feeding the one pig from everyone's leftovers for several months until just before Lent...sometime say between Christmas and late February, they would slaughter the pig and have a communal feast. Very totem and taboo my dears....! His feast is Jan 17, and that is the day to bless animals and barns. The bonfire is just plain winter time paganism, eviva eviva.

There may be some confusion between St. Anthony's fire and St. Elmo's fire, which is the mysterious light that appears at the masthead of a ship in a lightning storm, presaging the death of a sailor, but I am not sure. Certainly there is an element of the battle between light and darkness (winter theme...now the solar power is starting to return and the nights are getting noticeably shorter), good and evil. Siamo sempre lˆ, nel Tibet, carissimi!"

Here is a picture of St. Anthony's fire...a re-enactment in Bagnaia.

Roy takes this picture just before the piazza fills up with smoke...He tells me that before the fire is lit, there is a bandiera flown from the top with the local crest. It is taken down, and men pour gasoline on the logs from above. Then a long pole with flames at the end is shoved into the bottom of the pile. The whole mound explodes in flame to the delight of the crowd, which by this time numbers in the hundreds on this cold night. Sofi and I are safely at home by our own little fire.

Bravo, Don Francis, for this description, and for being a spiritual mentor to us all these years. Speaking of Don Francis, he calls today to check in with us and update us on his upcoming house purchase in Isernia. It will be a sale between friends, and next week he will be moving his 3,000 books from his apartment in the centro storico.

We offer to help, and will drive down early Monday morning, spending the day moving and unpacking books for him. He is a dear friend and we are ready to help. Sofi will get many blessings in the next few days...first from the San Antonio blessings on Saturday in Mugnano, and then one from Don Francis on Monday. She will surely be at 100% by then.

January 17
Today is the day of St. Antonio, and Sofi is back at 95%. She has plenty of pep on our walk, and back at home is full of life. Lore and Alberto have arrived back in the village, and Lore calls to invite us for pranzo tomorrow. Si, certo, but does she know about tonight? She can take Felix the cat with her to the blessing of the animals. Felix is an almost wild cat who loves her and waits for them by the door, no matter how many weeks they are away from the village. He sits on a step in the kitchen and sleeps when they are here and she is quite enamored of him.

Tia arrives and we take her to Michellini for her first visit. It starts to rain on the drive, and when we get there it is so wet that we decide to leave Sofi in the car. The wind starts to blow and we are unable to do much of a walk around the roses. But Tiziana spends time with us inside the office, looking at photos and giving me ideas of what to buy to plant above the low tufa wall in the olive terrace and on the walls above the lavender in the lavender terrace. We agree on Choisia, or mock orange, in addition to some new roses. Sarah Hammond has lots of Choisia in Bolinas, and I love it. I think Sarah will approve of it for our garden, as well.

On all these walls, we want the roses to cascade down, but on the wall above the lavender and to either side of the stairs to the potato field next to the huge old rosemary bush, we want the roses to grow up. So we will plant Paul Lede to grow up and Buff Beauty and William Richardson to grow down. These are all a combination of creamy/yellow/peach in color.

In front of the ugly cinderblock wall topped with tufa that reinforces the new fence in the olive terrace, we will grow osmanthus interspersed with mermaid roses, the same combination we have growing on the tiny street at the other end of our property.

My favorite roses are the Jude the Obscure and Lady Hillingtons. The Judes are on the balcony above the door, and the Lady Hillingtons are in the mezzo-lune pots on the front path going up to the front gate. I thought I liked the Glorie di Dijon, but our three are wimpy little buds, that don't even bear cutting, although they are beautiful buds. We also have a lovely but also wimpy Despues Jean, which I also like very much but has not grown much in the four years it has been in the garden between the Madame Alfred Carriere climber and the David Austin Mary Rose bush.

We are going to move those four roses and see if they are happier in other parts of the garden. In their places will be Paul Lede, Buff Beauty and a William Richardson. When we have the next sunny day, I will go out and start to cut back our existing roses, taking off all the leaves and working on all the weak canes, and those that are not growing in the right direction.

We will purchase the new roses in the next month or two. In the meantime, we will move the four roses that are not happy and prepare the soil for new plants. We'll be checking out our compost situation, and learning where to get the best food for the roses and other plants. In the U.S. it is easy, but not so in Italy. No one seems to know what fish emulsion is. Someone told me to get fish heads and make it myself. I could probably put fish parts in a bucket with a closed lid, but we would have all the neighborhood cats....I will do some research first, but Italo, ,the fishmonger, will surely give me what I need...

On the way back from Michellini, we pass La Quercia, Bagnaia and Bomarzo, and each town has its bonfire still burning, the gray embers below distant memories of last night's conflagrations. The bonfire in Bomarzo was blazing early this morning on the way up, and we have no idea why it would burn without any ceremony. Somehow all the fires keep burning, although it is windy and drizzling. We are happy to get home.

Sofi eats chicken and rice and does not get sick, but then again she sleeps for most of the rest of the daylight hours. We want her to be healthy for tonight's blessings.

It is not very cold when we walk with Sofi up to the village at 6:15. We pass by Dina and Italo's door, and she comes out. Roy bids her "bentornati!" and she invites us in for coffee after giving me a kiss. We decline, telling them that we are on the way to the benediction of the animals, but will come some other time. They are expecting guests, so cannot join us. But we will see them again soon.

There is no sign of a bonfire on the plaza outside the church, but the women start to gather. We see Vincenzo, the shepherd and Carla's husband, standing outside his little white car that is parked by the fountain next to the church. He is waiting. Enzo Gasperoni, Tiziano's father, is there with out any animals, because he does not know if there will be a mass or only the benediction for the animals. Valerio and his female hunting dog come over, and she snaps at Sofia. He takes her away, apologizing, and tells us he is going to Attigliano. He does not think there will be a benediction.

After he leaves, Don Luca arrives. We have all been asking each other if there will be a mass or a benediction. Felice tells us that Sofia is not allowed in the church. Don Luca tells all of us that indeed there will be a benediction, outside the church, and no mass.

We tell Enzo and Vincenzo, who drive off quickly to get their animals.

"Where is the bonfire?" Roy asks. Don Luca raises his eyebrows and looks over at Livio. Livio leans his head down with respect to the priest and rushes next door to his house, coming back with a 3-footed stufa base and a votive candle. Tonino's wife, Renata, walks purposely around the church, behind the fountain, and up to her house to get some kindling. She returns with a tall armful, and Felice breaks it up, making a proper fire.

People stand around the entrance to the church, framing its front steps and hugging themselves to keep warm. Brik comes by, following Baschia with his master. Baschia and Sofi sniff around each other and Brik growls, no longer Sofi's protector and main squeeze. Felice snaps the wood, breaking it in lengths short enough to sit on the little three-footed stufa base. The wood is dry, and the tiny kindling catches quickly. Don Luca nods his head in appreciation to Felice and to Livio and to Renata.

We hear the sound of little cars coming up the hill and it is Enzo with one dog, the female who has recently borne Brik's litter, and Carla and Vincenzo, with two ten-day-old lambs.

Don Luca gives the benediction and, because the lambs are so tiny and frightened, the shepherd backs his car close to the fire and opens the hatch back, where the two little ones are crying.

Here's a shot of Don Luca and Livio, during the benediction. Livio holds the reliquary of San Antonio D'Abbate. We in Mugnano must have at least a dozen reliquaries, and thankfully San Antonio is one.

After the benediction, Don Luca comes over to give Sofi a hug. Roy tells him, "Before the benediction, she was Sofia. Now she is Sofia Maria!" Don Luca laughs and thinks her new name is just fine. Roy takes photos of all the animals together and we all agree that next to Bagnaia, this is a silly little fire. But the fire, and the ceremony, are sweeter than Bagnaia, and that is fine with all of us.

January 18
Church this morning is full of life. Lore and Alberto sit with us, and Lore and I gab until the other Vincenzo rings the bell near the altar to begin mass. "Don't forget l'una!" Lore reminds us, as we walk home. At l'una we arrive at their house, with Sofia left at home. We are served zuppa of lentiche and riso, involtini of vitello with mortadella and broccoletti and roasted potatoes with fennel and olive oil, followed by panettone. We drink an interesting red wine from Giove, and will remember to pick up a few bottles the next time we drive up that hill toward Amelia. It probably costs all of about €2 or 3 a bottle.

We are able to speak, and to understand, more Italian each time we visit with them. They are purchasing a nearby cantina from Giuliola, and will begin reconstruction of the house across from them this spring. The transformation will be interesting to watch; their vision of places in which they live that respect the old Italian traditions is masterful.

While walking home, Roy suggests that we pick up Sofi and drive down toward Isernia this afternoon, instead of early tomorrow morning. After doing a little searching on the internet, we agree to drive as far as Cassino, and stay at Hotel La Pace. In the morning, we will go to the famous monastery at Monte Cassino, and then on to Isernia to begin to help Don Francis move to his new house.

The rain starts almost as soon as we get in the car. Once past Rome, the rain comes down so heavily it is hard to see through the windshield. I don't know if the drive is more difficult for Roy as the driver, or for me as the passenger. No matter to Sofi, she sleeps away on my lap.

We arrive at the hotel at 6PM, and later go out for a small dinner. Unable to go to the one good restaurant in town because we have Sofi, we elect to go to a pizzeria, and that works out fine. We return to our room and read and watch TV. What's that smell? I don't realize until later that it is not a non-smoking room. Unless you are in a big hotel, it is unusual to get a non-smoking room in Italia. It was not so long ago that tobacco was one of the main crops in Italy, so for Italians, giving up smoking, and the related laws, are slow to catch on. The hotel is newly renovated, however, with new bedding and bathroom. We would stay here again...

January 19
Sofi and I take a short walk, because it is still overcast and rainy. Just before nine, we drive up to the monastery and it really pours. Sofi stays in the car, and we take a walk around. Unfortunately, we are unable to see much of anything, because tours are only given to groups. The basilica is open, but it is up a tall flight of marble stairs outside, and the rain is coming down heavily. I have a fear of falling down stairs, so don't go. But Roy takes a walk up, and reports back that it is remarkable, and worth visiting again in nicer weather. Perhaps we will return on a Sunday and go to mass.

While I wait for him at the bottom of the staircase, I see two huge statues...the one to the right is Saint Scholastica and she is balancing something on her hand. I don't know until a day later that she is balancing a dove on her hand. What I do know is that four white doves coo outside a tall window several stories high up in the monastery. It is raining hard, but the doves seem happy sitting outside, perched on netting in a window above a marble balustrade.

Once we reach Don Francis in Isernia an hour or so later, we spend the next two hours packing and moving boxes, climbing up and down three flights of steep stairs and loading a small van. It continues to rain, and Sofi and I stay inside. Each time I go up or down stairs, I pick Sofi up, so I can only help with one arm. She bounced down one flight of stars once by herself, and realized that was not a good idea. All the men took a trip to the new house with the van, and Sofi and I stayed at the apartment.

The apartment is one of those narrow, steep staircase places, with few windows and those looking over rooftops and old, rundown buildings. Because we do not live there, the neighborhood seems characteristic and charming, especially on this gloomy, wet morning.

Just before pranzo, three of the men come in with groceries, and I watch, leaning against a wall, as a long discussion ensued about how the meal will be cooked. That decided, it is agreed that Sofi will have some plain pasta as well. The meal starts with an antipasta of two kinds of cheese, olives, prosciutto, bread, wine, followed with penne with a tomato and tuna sauce, followed by sautéed sausages and potatoes with fennel and rosemary. The meal lasts almost two hours. No matter that we have a job to do, nothing is as important as pranzo.

Danilo and Giovanni are friends of Corniglio, who is staying with Don Francis. They all have a journal called Sophia, so of course Sofi is treated like the principessa that she is. Danielo's family is from Pietralsanta, the birthplace of Padre Pio, so most of the conversation revolves around coming up with some kind of spiritual seminars or retreats to offer in the town. Now, there are millions of people who go to the town, but all they find there, in addition to the tour, are memorabilia. These four men are trying to come up with some kind of spiritual offering, and their timing seems excellent.

After pranzo, we fill up the van a second time, and Roy and Sofi and I follow in our car to the new house. It is a wonderful little house, and perfect for Don Francis. We leave there after goodbye hugs and promises to see each other again soon, hoping to drive all the way home, and are able to do that with less fuss than on the way down.

It is good to be home, and I make a simple vegetable broth for risotto with peas before we close up the house and go to bed.

January 20
We are able to take our walk before it really rains, and then Roy and Sofi take me to Orte to get my monthly pedicure. While I am there, they drive to San Liberato, to check out the agritourismo there, coming back with rave reviews. We will eat there and then add it to the website if we like it. Also today before pranzo, we visit another agritourismo in Bomarzo, down the road from the Parco de Mostre...This looks really beautiful but won't be open until March. Stay tuned.

Tomorrow I start the second rehabilitation of my right spala (shoulder), and tonight we go to see Dottoressa, to obtain a prescription for that. The way the state medical system works in Italia, to go to a specialist, one must have a written prescription from their doctor to begin. Tomorrow we will pay a fee, probably around €36 for ten sessions, and then go upstairs to the clinic to visit my old pals.

While I am in Dottoressa's office, she gives me a confirmation of my appointment with the headache clinic in Perugia. This is a national clinic, which happens to be in another province. Ordinarily, one must only see doctors in their own province. The appointment is March 17th, so I'll be sure not to drink too much red wine on my birthday, the day before.

Rain, rain, we need so much rain. Gloomy days, gloomy nights; we hope these days will be harbingers of a lovely fertile and green spring and summer, not like last year.

January 21
There is always enough time for our little walk in the morning, unless it is wildly raining. But after we return this morning, Roy and Sofi take me to Orte to the hospital to begin the repeat treatments on my shoulder. I am able to have a stilted conversation with the cashier, and I think this is partly because I feel comfortable with the process of going up to pay, know approximately what it will cost, and there is nothing much to worry about.

While she waits for my payment to slip to print (about €17 this time, perhaps a repeat is half-price), she asks me about America. Italians think America is a gossamer land of happy people who have everything. When I tell her that Italy is better, she does a double take and then smiles with pride.

Upstairs again, I greet Paola and Rosella, who tell me I have the wrong documents. Dottoressa wrote out a prescription for an X-ray, and I did not even look at it. They will let me have a treatment today, but I must either bring the old prescription for the ten sessions tomorrow or have Dottoressa rewrite the prescription. No wonder it was half price.

During the session, the electro-magnetic machines pummel my shoulder. I forget how strong the current is. When I am through, I go out to the car, and we call Dottoressa. She is in Bomarzo, so we drive there and I go in and wait my turn. When I see her, I realize that she does want me to have an x-ray, and I convince her that I need two, one for each shoulder. She rewrites the prescription, and tells me that she wants me to see a certain orthopedic doctor.

I return to the hospital, make the appointment with the same cashier, and then go for the x-rays. I have to pay again, but it is only another €17. With those x-rays, I will go in three weeks to the orthopedic doctor, and we will work out what I need. It is important to me that I will be able to play the violin, and to garden (especially the hand-clipping of all our little boxwood), so I am happy that she has agreed to do this. The sessions upstairs with Paola and Rosella will have to wait...

It is cold, but clear. On clear days, we are able to work happily in the garden while the sun is out wearing only a sweater. I love these days. Today, I take off all the leaves and start to prune the roses in the fiorieras. There are eleven of them, and it takes me about two hours. Sofi stays right near me, until she hears people on the street. She dashes down the steps to the parcheggio, and just as I feared, jumps through one of the circles in the sculptured iron cancello after Brik.

Luciana and Augusta, thewoman who sits in front of me in church, yell out. I rush to the front door for the key, and down the front stairs. When I open the front gate, I see Augusta holding Sofi up by her shoulders, like a dead rabbit. Sofi hangs there like a limp rag.

I scoot down and put my arms out facing her and she puts Sofi down. It takes about two seconds for Sofi to race up the walk and into my arms, her ears flying and flapping, her tail wagging, her mouth open showing a tiny noodle-of-a-pink-tongue. We all laugh, and I take her back inside the gate, promising to get Roy to put a black mesh across the bottom of the cancello, subito!

Stefano comes by and tells me that he will return tomorrow with Virgilio to open up the back of the house. Felice comes by, and steadies the rose arch with a piece of bamboo. I later read that it is not a good idea to buy a rose arch made of hollow metal, because the pieces rust from the inside. No wonder. And no wonder it cost €12.

When Roy comes back from Terni, where he went to have some squeak fixed on the car, I have plenty to tell him. Lore and Alberto come for a short visit and glass of wine, and they are going from our house to see Rosina, Tiziano's mother, below us in the valley. We tell them he is coming here in a few minutes. It is a small world.

They bundle up for their walk down the hill and bid us c'e veddiamo, and I start to wash and cut the vegetables for the swiss chard and rice soup for tonight's cena. While I am cutting the swiss chard, Tiziano arrives for our next lesson. We spend the hour or more talking mostly of archeology, and of Mugnano and its importance in Etruscan history. We offer to be his "slaves" if he chooses to do any "digs" in the Mugnano area. We really mean it, and love these sessions with this remarkable young man, during which we find something to laugh at ourselves at every turn.

January 22
Luca arrives and opens up six places on the outside of the house where turnbuckles and iron rods are imbedded in the house's framework. Unfortunately, one is in the inside, inside the bathroom wall, because the room was added in 1995. We have to take off some wall tiles, but the place he needs to reach is behind a cupboard, so it will not be visible. He leaves after about two hours and lets us know that Virgilio and Stefano will come by in the afternoon. We drive to Amelia to the vivaio and farm store Darci and Steve and Tia told us about. No lemon trees, but Roy is able to buy a maximum and minimum thermometer to keep outside. Good thing. It is really cold today, even in the sun.

We stop at Unopiu to look at their metal arches, but don't like what they have to frame our roses. They are too big. So on the way home Roy has a brilliant flash...We will have Dino make the arch. He is a fabro, and a wonderful one at that. Virgilio has so much work that it would take several months to get one from him, but we are sure Dino can make a perfect one for us in a week.

Aldo, Virgilio's son, comes by around three, and goes up to try to looses a bolt in the back of the house. He is alone, so Roy offers to help, by getting up a ladder in the front of the house and holding the front bolt, while Aldo loosens the back bolt. Roy is able to get the bolt off, and Aldo tells us he is going to take it away to fashion something to go with it. It will take at least fifteen days. In the meantime, the house has been opened up in six places, and we are without a bolt on the front corner of the house where our bedroom floor is located. We agree to walk softly in our bedroom.....

Later, we notice that a whole role of floor tiles have been uprooted by the corner turnbuckle, which now sits right up on the floor in the middle of the side window. Under the desk, where the floor tiles had shown a separation for all the time we have owned the house, the separation has disappeared. But closer to the door it is still there. It is only later that Roy tells me that the floor has always looked that way. Heaven knows what changes we will see when their work is finished. I am hopeful.

I clean up the two seafoam roses in the pots on the front terrace, and work on the herb garden in front of the loggia. Doing a little at a time, we will have all the pruning and cleaning done in the next few weeks...plenty of time to prepare for the spring planting. Roy works down below on the cancello, making a prigione (prison) for Sofia by backing the bottommost part of the cancello with black mesh.

Lore and Alberto come by to get some fresh sage, broccoletti, rugghetta, lattuga, and radicchio. Roy thanks them; the more broccoletti they take away, the less he will have to eat. I cut up a lot of lattuga and radicchio that has seen frost, and make a bucket-full of greens for compost.

I convince Roy to go over to the compost area with me, and we have a big barrel almost full of compost for the roses that has been "cooking" for at least six months. Today's new batch will go into our staging area, which unfortunately has a plastic cover that snapped in the freeze. We will replace it soon. He gets a pitchfork, and mixes the greens with the leaves, and as they say in the books, compost "happens". I don't think he is really into the whole compost program, but the results are very good, so I will continue to encourage him and hope he stays with it.

Don Francis calls from the airport, telling us that the session with his notaio was very strange, but that it all worked out and the house is now all his. The people who owned the house before him are happy that a priest is coming to the village, and it appears someone already has some land they would like to donate for a chapel. He can go home dreaming of his home in a village even smaller than Mugnano. It does have a pizzeria, however, something Mugnano cannot boast.

January 23
Roy has to go back to Terni this afternoon...The other day the Alfa dealership did not do the work because they were out of the part they needed. So for the past few days the car has sounded like an old rattle-trap, although it is not much more than six months old. I am reminded of Terence's old "Dukes of Hazzard" TV show, with the Dodge Dusters, I think they were called, gliding down the street, bouncing slowly as they went. We like the car very much, and this is the first problem we have had with it.

I am thinking about Stefano, and grateful that he was able to figure out what is wrong with the front part of the house. Two years ago, when we hired Alberto Parka as an engineer and then his crew to put on a new roof, they felt our problem was something else. In addition, they added so much weight to the roof that more cracks have shown up. Simply by figuring out that the second story has steel rods inserted in the flooring that can be cinched up, we have saved ourselves a lot of agony. I must not speak too swiftly...the end is not near. But with a small effort, we can see a real difference. Bravo.

Some of the workers in this country are indeed brilliant.

Pino finally comes with the new dishwasher. He arrives mid-afternoon, but Roy is back in Terni. The parts for the car have arrived, and fixing the car is a high priority for him. Luckily it is fully covered on the warranty. Anyway, Pino comes and is pretty intimidated that I do not speak Italian fluently. It is a good thing, for I convince him to take the old dishwasher away with him for no extra cost. Roy thinks we will see it sitting outside the dump in Bomarzo. No matter...It is gone.

The new dishwasher has very simple controls. Better yet, it has a place to put sea salt inside each month to counteract the calcium in the water. If the old machine had that, we would not be in the market for a new one.

I make an onion gratinee as a side dish for cena, which turns out to be a disaster. It is from a recipe in the back of One Thousand Days in Venice, a book I liked very much about an American chef who fell in love with an Italian man. The dish is too rich, and the taste is not special. Roy praises me for trying it, however, and that makes me feel better. While he has gone to Terni, I make a big pot of minestrone, which we will put into containers and freeze them for use when we don't want to cook or want a hot meal. I use the Williams-Sonoma copper stock pot my mother gave us years ago and it is one of the few things we shipped when we moved. I love using it.

The day ends with very cold temperatures...below freezing. We expect to discard our lemon tree, which has shown no lemons for another year, and it is outside. The tiny kumquat tree is inside the loggia for the winter. Otherwise, we are not too worried about our trees and plants. They should all be able to withstand temperatures below freezing, as long as the low temperatures don't continue for an extended period.

January 24

It is cold, cold again. I make a potato bread, and freeze half of the dough. The bread comes out crispy-hard-as-a-rock on the outside, soft on the inside. The recipe was from One Thousand Days in Venice. While Roy is gone, I tie Sofi up to the front gate and work on the two roses on either side of the gate, slowly stripping the leaves off, while keeping the shoots intact.

I am not sure about that...I mean, when to prune the roses. A few years ago, I attended one of Walter Branchi's rose pruning classes in January. His classes are held each Saturday in January at his rose garden on Lago di Cobara. Anyway, he seems to cut back his roses during January. But when I clipped the roses in the fiorieras last week, Felice told me not to...to wait until at least February because of the freezing temperatures.

Today, while working on the roses on the front path, Giuseppe walks up Via Mameli from below and looks up at what I am doing, chastising me by shaking his index finger back and forth in that characteristic Italian way. Not now. So I quickly tell him "solo folia", or only the leaves. He nods his agreement, as though he has some ownership in our property, and what goes on here. He walks up the hill satisfied that he has challenged me and I have taken his counsel.

It is so very cold, even in the bright sun, that I stop, unable to reach the highest leaves. There are two more roses to finish on the path, but they will wait for another warm day. In the meantime, the two roses on either side of the gate look like they are out of "the forest primevil..." I will continue to research pruning techniques and hope that I am doing the right thing.

At just before 6:30, we drive up to church, for there is a memorial mass for Mauro's brother, who died of a brain tumor at age 36 one year ago. Now we see who the man's wife and daughter are. Augusta is the mother, and it appears that she had three sons, the Basetta boys: Gianni (who Roy knows from the gas station at the entrance to the Autostrada), Mauro, and the deceased man.

Don Luca arrives at the little church, and performs a very sensitive service. After it is over, Roy and I drive to Roscio, to meet Wendy and Alan for dinner. Roscio has come a long way, in the six years we have lived here. They still have the fireplace in the corner, where mama cooks "a la brace" on coals pulled forward from the fire in the back onto a large grill. But now the dishes have more trendy touches; Wendy has a creamy polenta with melted cheese and mushroom salsa, Roy has a fillet, Alan has something grilled and I have orata, a grilled fresh-water fish. The meal is finished with torta alla mama, a rich dessert with creamy custard and caramel and crushed amaretto cookies. Divine.

We agree that they will pick us up tomorrow at 12:30 to go to Diego's for pranzo, and it is -2 C degrees as we drive home.

January 25
This is the feast day of San Vincenzo, our second patron saint. I think he is not our primary patron saint, whatever that means. I wake up early and at 8am am fixing breakfast for Sofi when fireworks go off in the valley to welcome this feast day. Sofi starts and shivers, but I keep her occupied, and she is more interested in breakfast than the outside noise.

When we go out for our walk, the noise has stopped. I check the thermometer outside the loggia, and it reads -2 C. It feels very cold. The walk is hasty, and I open up the two side terraces when we come back up the stairs to encourage Sofi to run and play some more.

At nine, the Bomarzo Polimartium Band arrives and starts to tune up just below our house. While I take a shower, Roy takes Sofi up to the village, to follow the band around. They begin at the bus stop and walk and play what sounds like Neapolitan marches and folk tunes up and down all the streets of the village. Sofi loves everyone, bounding down Via Mameli and going over to Italo and Leondina with kisses to welcome them back.

By the time I am dressed, Roy puts Sofi inside and we walk up to mass. Inside the church, we scrutinize the costumes of the Confraternity closely, noting how long the red cloaks are, how the top cape falls over the shoulders...The costume is complicated enough that we will have the woman in Orte make Roy's; she is the woman who made a couple of dresses for me last summer. Alberto has used her to make costumes for the Orte processions, and she is a pro. This must be an excellent job.

The reliquary of San Vincenzo stands in a place of honor next to the altar. It is exquisite...a silver cross with the relic inside behind a glass front, held up by two angels. While waiting for all the Confraternity to arrive, new song sheets are passed out with hymns especially for today, and Don Ciro gives us all a dress rehearsal, leading us in song with the choruses of several of the hymns. He is a good coach. His voice is strong and clear, and everyone sings; each person pretending he knows the notes anyway.

I particularly like the refrain from "Guarda questa offerta"...

Nella tua messa la nostra messa

nella tua vita la nostra vita (2v)

Eight members of the Confraternity participate in today's service (all together I think there are more than twenty) and all the banners and lanterns are taken out of the sacristy, crowding Don Luca, Don Ciro, the deacon (who is also the village comedian during festas) and Vincenzo around the altar.

In front, seated at their regular seats, at least eight women are wearing blue bandannas around their shoulders, with the initials A.C. emblazoned on them in white letters. These are the women leaders of the church, but I do not know what their roles are. We will have to find out.

The mass finishes, and Elena and Rosita each take a pole...Elena with a beautiful banner with a Madonna and child and Rosita with special blue and white flags. Don Ciro leads the way, followed by Elena and Rosita and half of the Confraternity; the women file out and then the men. Women form two lines, single file, followed by Don Luca, Stefano Bonari (the mayor); Tiziana, (the former mayor); then the men and the rest of the Confraternity.

While I am walking down the hill in the midst of the procession, there is time for me to take in the sounds and the music and our places in all of this. We belong here. The tinny horns of the band sound out the melodies and we are characters in an old Italian movie. How many times have I seen a film of a village where the inhabitants participate in a procession? And now art has become life. I lean my head back to catch the tears, but I am too late. So I look out at the Tiber Valley and quietly raise my hand to wipe away the streams running down both cheeks. I don't want anyone to see my reaction, my joy at being so at home here.

The band is behind us, and we step in time with their music. After a song, they stop, and Don Ciro leads us in prayer. We walk down the hill almost to our house, then turn around and walk back to the church. This is not the whole procession, but it will do for San Vincenzo. On the feast day of San Liberato, the procession follows down every tiny street of the village. It is very cold today, and we all file back to the church, where Don Luca gives a blessing and ends the service.

We are just in time to walk in front of the band and as we are reaching Giustino's, we see Alan and Wendy getting out of their P T Cruiser. So we get in, along with Rusty and Short Stuff, their two dogs, and drive off to Diego's.

We just missed Matthew, who had to take a plane back to London today. This is our first opportunity to meet Terri, who is here at Diego's Castello Santa Maria with her nanny. She is full of life, and after four months of maternity leave, will return to London as a stock trader in a week. Roy and I seem so past the work stage, that we can hardly remember what it was like to be stressed, motivated, fired up...those words have been eliminated from our vocabulary. We listen to her as though the conversation is alien, so thankful that after pranzo we will return to our normal snail's pace. She is young, and has many productive work years ahead and we wish her well.

Diego has outdone himself: a risotto with a kind of lobster, appetizers of a kind of smoked fish and also a sliced rolatini of duck with foie gras with crackers, bruschetta, bollito misto of manzo, vitello, pollo, tongue and pig's feet with his own mostarda, made of clementines and another mostarda of chiles, and an assortment of other mostardas, and green bean bundles wrapped in proscuitto. Following are hot chocolate cupcakes with whipped cream and his own delicious heated orange marmelada, biscotti and vin santo. Of course, Diego's red and white wines. Diego also sends Roy and me home with lasagna and two bottles of marmelada. He is a dear friend.

While Diego is taking Terri and the nanny and Wendy and Alan on a tour, Tia and Bruce sit with baby Sebastiano and I have a talk with Ursula, who helped serve today. Roy and I are very interested in daughter Serena's life at Paul Boucuse's cooking school in Lyon, France. Ursula tells me she loves the course but is very lonely. She is going to visit with her this week, and I send our love and good wishes.

When Serena apprentices this summer in Provence, we will take Sofi and go to visit her. She will be at an agritourismo, and this will be our first opportunity to visit Provence. June is a very busy month for us with our garden, but we will see if Angie or Karina can come for a few days before the lavender has to be harvested.

On the way to Diego's, Alan and Roy take turns telling self-deprecating stories of crazy forgetful things that they have done...all connected with driving. Alan putting a case of beer on the roof of his car, driving off and not remembering for blocks until it slid off and crashed behind him...Roy leaving his Handspring (personal digital assistant) on top of his car, driving out of a parking garage and the man behind him stopping to pick it up as Roy turns a corner and disappears from sight, only to return it to Roy a day later...Alan putting a ping-pong table top on top of his car and having the rope snap and it fall off while he is driving, finding it in perfect condition...Roy buying sheets of garden lattice, strapping them on the roof of the station wagon, only to have them sail off on the freeway, crashing in the middle of traffic...At the end of the day, Alan cannot find his car keys. Wendy is worried...he is always forgetting his keys...Alan looks around and around and around and finally finds them...right on top of the car. If it were not his car keys, we surely would have driven off, forgetting yet another thing on the top of the car....

Sofi greets us lovingly, and gets a very big mid-afternoon meal and lots of hugs. I really missed not having her with us. Before we know it, the doorbell rings, and it is Mauro and Livio with Mauro's Confraternity garb for Roy to have copied. I am upstairs at the computer, researching San Vincenzo, to see if I can find a story of his life in English. At church, we were given the story in Italian.

What I find is a story of St. Vincent Saragossa, who lived in the 3rd century and was born in Spain. I can only find a description of his torturous death, but did find a description of a later San Vincenzo, who was born in Rome in 1795 and his actions on behalf of the poor and underprivileged are legendary. It is said that he died from a cold, which he caught on a cold, rainy night after giving his cloak to a beggar who had none. This week we will work on Don Luca's translation and see who is our village's San Vincenzo...

When I come down the stairs, the three men are discussing Roy's Confraternity costume, where to get the red cord sash, and we take advantage of the opportunity to figure out a few more names. Livio is from Montefiascone, we know. He is married to Giuliola, who has one cousin, in Viterbo. Otherwise, she is not related to anyone in Mugnano.

Mauro is married to Laura, but has a sister named Laura and one other living brother, Gianni. Laura and Mauro are friends of Giuliola and Livio, not related. And Livio is so busy overseeing the maintenance and well-being of the church, that he does not have time to participate in the Confraternity.

Mauro confirms that Roy will be Confraternity member number 25. The bronze medallion was made by Ezio, our friend and bronze artist who almost bought San Rocco, in his foundry in Milano. Roy makes sure that Mauro knows how much becoming a member of the Confraternity means to him. Mauro and Livio seem very pleased that Roy will be a part as well.

The cold, cold weather continues, and we end the day in front of the fire, after Roy tries on Mauro's costume and looks at himself in front of the mirror; wearing his brown work pants and slippers underneath, his stomach out, striking a silly pose.

January 26
As soon as Sofi and I leave the front gate for our walk, Mario drives up in his ape to do the tree trimming. Before reaching him, we greet Italo and Brik and Ubik, who are all in front of Pepe's open garage door. Inside, in addition to Pepe, is his cousin, Silvano Spaccese. Pepe loves Sofi, and goes over to give her un gran abraccio, while Ubik looks on with disdain. Ubik does not think much of little Sofi. Italo tells me that he is going out with Pepe in the tractor to bring back firewood. When I ask him where they are going, he points with his work-glove somewhere down in the valley.

We finish our walk and watch Mario pruning the big caki tree on the front terrace. He remembers that Roy wants there to be plenty of umbra (shade), so does not over-prune it. Roy has him leave all the cuttings, because they are great as kindling in the fireplace. He brings out a lug and his cutters, and cuts the suckers in place, dropping them right into the lug while Mario moves on to cut the plum tree. The blossoms have finished on the loquat tree next to the plum, and I ask Roy to have Mario clean up the dirty spent blossoms. Mario is so good with us; he tells us not to clean them until they fall to the gravel because if we do that now, there will be no nespola fruit, which is delicious.

In the next garden, the smaller caki tree is pruned, but the fruit tree in the front, which has never borne anything, is morte. So he will return with his chain saw and cut it down. Roy does not want to replace it, but I want a place for the Glorie di Dijon roses to grow and have some shade. So we may plant a pear or peach tree there in its place later in the year.

On to the sour cherry tree, which is half-dead. I think that was the same story last year, and yet we had enough cherries to make some wonderful tart marmelada. He cuts some of the dead branches, but we will just hope that it survives. We may plant another cherry in the back corner.

The big olive tree in front of the gardener's cottage has already become too tall. Mario does a major pruning, and later asks Roy if there have been any olives this year. When Roy tells him no, he replies that that is because the tree was not pruned heavily last year. So we agree to a regular pruning of this tree from now on. He cuts it back, leaving an open cup in the middle for sun.

A trim of the big fig tree and then he gathers the olive and fig branches and moves them to be burned. Olive and fig are not good to burn, he advises. Roy will clean up all the rest, lug by lug, as he does each January. The wood that he gathers each January supplements that which has been delivered in the fall. By the time next winter comes around, this winter's cuttings will be ready to burn. He is into the symphony of it all and I can tell is proud of his work, as am I.

This morning, Roy made a drawing of our proposed rose arch, with dimensions, and gave it to Mario before he left. Mario thinks that Dino will make it in a few days. We know it will be just right.

I really like our broccoletti, so Sofi and I go out and pick a basketful before pranzo. In the kitchen, I put some of Tia and Bruce's olive oil in a sauté pan, a clove of mashed garlic, two anchovies and swirl the anchovies around. Then I add a tiny pepperoncino, the washed broccoletti with its stems pulled off, add a cover to steam it for a minute, turn the greens over to coat them with long kitchen tongs, and add a little lemon juice, salt and pepper. It really is delicious, and even Roy likes it with a little freshly grated cheese on top. He loves the minestrone and potato-bread toast, taking seconds so I won't put more greens on his plate.

January 27
Yesterday, Roy stopped in to see Roberto Pangrazi, our geometra, who told him to come back on Thursday for the plans and preventivo for the work for the back of the house. This is separate from the chimney work and the foundation work that Stefano is doing off and on for us. We will not be able to do a lot, but hope to get an idea of what it will cost.

Roy also went to see Virgilio to get the bolt back for the front of the house. He is nervous, as am I, in having the bolt undone for these two weeks or so. I can hear him outside, cinching the bolt, and strangely feel more secure. Later in the evening it clouds over and begins to rain.

I have been thinking about Tia's comments to me on Sunday about my glasses. She asked me to try on Wendy's and also hers, to see how I looked in narrow frames, and commented that they made me look ten years younger. I agreed to go to Amelia with her soon to get new frames. And then I realize that I am no longer interested in the latest fashions. I am, however, missing girl trips, getting together with other women to just laugh and joke. Tia really is so much fun. Perhaps I will get a pair of frames as my new spring wardrobe...

The rain stops and we are able to walk. I notice that the hour between 8 and 9 am is the clearest time of the morning at this time of year; often after our walk we are surrounded in fog or rain.

Today continues very cold, but Roy really wants to get his confraternity garb finished. We go to Viterbo to the fabric store next to Obi, but they do not have the right material. When we get home there is a reminder from our vet that Sofi needs a rabies shot. So we will go soon to Terni to take care of both Sofi's shot and the material. We do some more research for lighting for Judith's apartment, and find a good shop in Viterbo for sconces. Their chandeliers are really gaudy, but the sconces we find are just perfect. We stop at a gastronomia and pick up food for tonight...saltimbocca ready to sauté and chicken sausages for tomorrow.

Roy calls Ariston to ask about a problem with our washing machine, and a service man will come tomorrow morning.

January 28
It's warm this morning, and our walk is fragrant and fun. Back at home, the Ariston repair man arrives, and it is bad news. We need to replace our washing machine. I have never liked it...it always seemed to be going through an exorcism during the spin. So after not much more than six years use, at least four of which it was seldom used, we must dig deep again in our pockets for another.

This time, we do research on the the internet, specifically, sites in Britain where the same models are sold. We are looking for one with the highest spin ratio at the best price. In the meantime, we do a load of washing and it comes out without much of a spin...the clothes are soaking wet. It will cost us almost as much to repair the existing machine as get a new one. And washing machines are so strange in Italy. The wash cycle takes almost an hour. Sigh.

Roy drives up to our friends at Sgrina in Giove, who work out a very good deal on a new machine, which will be delivered subito! We will have our new machine tomorrow.

January 29
Sofi and I arrive back from a cold, clear walk and our new washing machine arrives a few minutes later. Roy convinces them to take away the old one. We try out a load of towels, and are very pleased. Let's hope this machine, which is rated better than the old one and costs more, lasts much longer. We know it has higher revolutions per minute, and because it takes forever to wash a load, this is a good thing.

We drive to Terni, or at least we think we are driving to Terni, but the police have closed off the first exit and we see many cars just parked on the off ramp. Further down the road, we see miles of traffic and the next exit is blocked as well. Other cars turn around on the superstrada and, what the heck, Roy does so, too. We'll go to Terni another day, and instead stop in Amelia to shop for food and return home. Later, Tia tells us that she thinks there will be a big general strike tomorrow, at least in Rome. Perhaps they are trying the strike out in Terni, first.

I have had this crazy idea about adding a little sitting room off the existing living room leading directly into the garden and turning the main living room into a dining room. We hardly ever use the living room as it is now. What I'd like to see is an open arch where the window facing the garden is now, and a small room, about 10' x 12' with French doors facing the garden. We'd walk out right into the garden, just before and to the left of the olive tree. I know I'm crazy and we can't afford it, but having a real dining room would make the house a lot more comfortable for entertaining, even in the hot summer months. I think we would use the little sitting room more, too. The existing kitchen table can be moved to the dining room...it can expand to twice its size, and we can find a small table for the kitchen.

So Roy and I walk the room off outside, and when he goes to see Roberto Pangrazi, our geometra, later in the afternoon, Pangrazi tells him the proposed back room where we are going to put storage and a bathroom off the main hallway will be called something like a magazino for the hot water heater and other things like that. So it will not even be classified as a room. He could not print out the drawing because his printer is broken, but we will get the drawing in a few days. No rush.

We remember that when we first asked him about it, he told us that putting in a magazino, or storage room, was not possible. Then we talked around and around and he said that we could put in a bathroom as large as we want. Giro, giro, there is almost always a way if you know how to massage the system. Bella figura, or making a good impression, is always important in getting what you want done in Italia.

When Roy asks him about the proposed new room, he thinks we can put in approximately a 10 X 10 X 10 room and will ask at the Commune tomorrow. We'd like to have something drawn up in the event we can find a way to do it. This permit concept is so very strange. The Italians have an odd way of dealing with permits. They like to deal with people they know and like. And in Tobias Jones' book, The Dark Heart of Italy, he writes that, "Everyone feels so badly treated, everything is so legalistic, that people feel justified being a little lawless." I especially like Jones' line, "Here, laws and facts are like playing cards: you simply have to shuffle them and fan them out to suit yourself."

He describes another word, clientelismo as the culture of looking out for your friends and family. So now that we have good relationships with people like Roberto Pangrazi and Stefano Bonari, the sindaco, we find that we are usually not shut out when asking for something. We expect anyone to say "No!" when we first ask, but after awhile of talking around and around the situation often changes.

Tia tells us that it snowed in Amelia this afternoon...more than two inches. Roy goes out to check on the ice situation with all the rain, and there is plenty of wet mush sitting on the window sills and steps. We could not really call it snow...Perhaps tomorrow we will wake up to another January 30th snow on the ground....Last year there was a blanket of snow on this date...our one snow day a year day.

January 30
We agreed to get up early today to go for our annual blood tests in Soriano. Leaving the house around 7:30, it is cold but there is no snow. But what's this? Driving down the hill we see the hillsides of Lugnano and Amelia covered with snow. And driving up to Bomarzo there is snow there, too. Across the superstrada toward Soriano we encounter at least an inch on the ground. The closer we get to the town, the more snow we see. Italians are not used to snow. The usual driving fools are like old dotty old men today...driving at 5 mph, their hands frozen on the wheel, eyes locked straight ahead. We pass a car stopped right in the middle of the road, its driver putting on chains. We have chains as well, but hope not to have to use them.

It is so cold. There is not much sun yet, and there is a layer of ice on every road. We park in the town near the café we like. Plows have been out, and we drive over mounds of hours-old packed snow, about eight inches high. Across the street from our parked car, I am taking mincing steps, so afraid of falling. I admit this is my greatest fear...falling. After two major falls in my adult life, I am not very brave when I do not feel solid ground under my feet.

Roy is behind me, putting money in the parking meter. A man meets me at the top of the hill and tells me it is very dangerous to walk down that hill. Where am I going? "The hospital." He shakes his head and asks me if I want him to accompany me. What a gentleman. I don't ever remember being spoken to so chivalrously by a complete stranger, but tell him that my husband will be right along. Thank you.

I hold my left hand out to gain balance from the medieval wall, and take tiny steps along a protected sliver of walkway just next to the wall. Roy arrives. We are not prepared with

the correct shoes. I am wearing very warm boots, but they don't have traction. Roy is wearing athletic shoes with his red jacket that makes him look like The Michelin Man.

It takes us almost 20 minutes to walk down the equivalent of two blocks. We arrive at the hospital and it is toasty warm inside. A man who speaks a little English, the same man who took my first blood test a year ago, greets me in English. A woman in the hall asks what we want. How kind of her. Blood tests? Not today. Every day but Friday....

I don't ever remember ordering it before, but want hot chocolate when we climb back up the hill to the café. It is delicious, made with Perugina chocolate, but very rich. Roy eats two ciambellas (little donuts). We feel we need rewards for surviving.

Sofi has been sleeping in the car, and joyously greets us. We drive to Terni, to do the errands we were not able to do yesterday, stopping first to get her rabies shot. She is brave and sweet, and the doctor trims her front nails as well. While we wait to pay, we ask where Via Ospedale is. Near the hospital? No, it is near the old hospital.

I love this. Getting directions from Italians is such an important task. They take it SO seriously. One man who is there with his cat, the man who sells the pet supplies across the hall and Roy all lean toward Dr. Cristalli's wife, who is standing next to them in the hallway, giving directions. I swear the three of them all lean toward her at the same angle, reminding me of the day Roy and I went bird watching at Point Reyes. Have you ever gone bird watching? All the "watchers" lean at the same angle toward the bird they are watching, as though leaning on one foot like a flamingo. They are SO interested.

We find Via Ospedale, a tiny street in the middle of the centro storico. The beauty supply store does not sell any of the products I am looking for. When I ask them about Framese, a company in Milan that manufacturers what I want, they tell me that Framese sells in Emilia Romagna, or around the world, but not in the rest of Italia. So I have decided to change what I use to something I can find here. I am not about to be a slave to American products any longer.

We walk next to the fabric store for Roy's Confraternity costume. They have what we need, as well as a wonderful plaid for a tablecloth and under-sink curtains. I spend part of the afternoon sewing away, and then go downstairs to start on the osso bucco. I have never made it before, but no matter. It takes two hours to cook in the oven after preparing it, so we will eat late. The fragrance the oven emits while it is cooking is incredible.

Roy sits at the table finishing The DaVinci Code. He is about the last person to read it, but is so engrossed in it that he really cannot put it down. Friends here talk about it. Mary Magdalene married to Jesus... Her visage next to Jesus in DaVinci's Last Supper... Opus Dei. There is so much to talk about...so much conjecture.

It is finally time to eat and we open a '97 Barolo. Good thing. The food is remarkable. I cook a rice with beef broth and squash with brown sugar to accompany the osso bucco. All the different foods on the plate meld and it is a waltz of smells and textures and tastes. I will surely make this for Lore and Alberto. But probably not with rice on the same plate. The Italians serve rice as primi, or first, followed by the meat. No matter.

The meal is so great we turn off the movie and just talk. Roy is obsessed with "what if's" based on his reading. "What if Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married and had a child? What would that do to the Catholic Church today? " We go round and around and have fun with it. But he remains obsessed and wants to find a photograph of the Last Supper. "Is there one chalice or thirteen?" We go off to bed with lots to think about.

January 31
Yesterday Roy could not wait to get going on his Confraternity costume, so he called Delfa in Orte from the car and drove right there to have her begin to sew it right away...Well, we almost drove right there. He is so enamored with Skippy peanut butter that we just had to stop at LeClerc in Terni to pick up a stash...

Just before sitting down to pranzo, the doorbell rang and it was Dino, to ask us questions about the rose arch. He will work out a way to sink the posts in a little cement, but will leave lots of room for the roseroots. In a week, he will return with his little masterpiece and install it.

Later in the day, Roberto Pangrazi gave Roy good news. The little sitting room can be built, it will be just under 10' x 12', but he wants us to have a peaked roof. We will work out what it will do to our view from the bedroom window. I suspect not much. On Tuesday, he will have all the plans drawn up and ready for us that will include the magazino (storage room) and bathroom in the back of the house and the little seating room. Who knows when we'll be able to afford to move ahead, but we can dream, can't we?

I woke up in the middle of the night with a roaring migraine, so we did not go to get our blood tests this morning. Instead, when Roy got up he found that we had no water...Pipes froze last night. Piano, piano, he goes back to bed to finish The DaVinci Code. Later he tells me that with his new thermometer he could tell that the temperature last night was -5 (mid 20's).

Later in the day, I take Sofi for a walk and Roy drives to Viterbo to buy insulation for the water pipes and heater. He measures the box on the front walk where the water comes onto the property, and when he returns he opens the box and puts in a Styrofoam-type of insulation. Felice walks by and tells him he'd be better off jamming an old wool sweater in there. Ha. Ha. Felice is probably right. Time will tell.

We leave around 5 to go to church in Bomarzo, because tomorrow we will go to the Museo Civico in Viterbo to meet Mary Jane Cryan and have a tour. We have not been to that museum, but it is an Etruscan treasure trove, so we are looking forward to it.

We drive first to Attigliano, past the local carabinieri who are doing a traffic stop, pulling people over with their wands. They never stop us. But then they are friends, feeling sorry for us after our terrible ordeal in May. Last week at Diego's, when making faces over the pig's feet at pranzo, we learned a funny translation. Remember the Capo of the Bomarzo Carabinieri? He is quite tall and handsome and his Armani uniform fits him to a "T". Anyway, we found out the translation of his last name...Pig's Feet.

At Misericordia, the tiny church on a back alley in Bomarzo, Roy is the only man there tonight until the priests show up. Tonight there are two priests and three young seminarians. What is remarkable about this group of parishioners is their age. There must be several older than ninety, and two who dotter up to communion must be over 100. One who sits near us has a tiny wooden chair under a little staircase, where she looks out at the scene like a frightened little bird.

The temperature drops from 7 down to 2 on the drive down the hill from Bomarzo, and we can't wait to get inside by the fire and finish last night's osso bucco, bidding the month of January arrividerci!

FEBRUARY, 2004

.February 1
On this clear, cold day, I somehow do the walk with Sofi with another migraine. I have no idea what the cause is. It feels good to be out in the cold, and I sit on the bench in the lavender garden while Sofi bounds around, chasing little birds.

We really want to go to the museum tour in Viterbo, so Sofi goes upstairs for a rest and we drive off. The museum is the Viterbo Municipal Museum, and is housed in a group of buildings that comprise Santa Maria della Verita, the museum itself situated in a cloister founded in the 12th century.

Viterbo was the first city to begin collecting Etruscan finds and exhibit them to the general public, as early as the 15th century. We hear from Mary Jane Cryan, who has invited us, that the group we are with is made up almost entirely of people from Vetralla, her home city. Many of these people have never gone to a museum before. She and a few of her colleagues and friends have embarked on a program to educate the local Italians on the important artwork right under their noses. They hope to instill a civic pride and an interest in preserving these important works.

When asked if she has any Etruscan pieces of her own, she responds, "Yes, but everyone has at least a few little things." I find this a remarkable statement. To think that 2,500 years later, we are able to uncover pieces in our own back yards tells me that this whole area is a treasure trove, mostly undiscovered and rich with promise. We are sure that our interest in local archeology and friendship with people like Mary Jane and Tiziano will encourage us to learn a great deal about the ancient history of our village and the surrounding area.

In the next few years, she expects that Viterbo will become well known around the world, for the many treasures of the Etruscan civilization, which predates the Romans and the time of Christ, are only now being recognized internationally. On the Places to Visit blog of this site, there is a background story of the Etruscans. As time goes on, we will study these people in greater depth, and pass along information about them as it relates to our area.

We hope to come back to this fine museum with Tiziano, and recommend it to anyone who plans a visit to the area.

February 2
I spend most of the day sleeping off my headache, with Sofi sleeping nearby. Later in the evening Roy begins his training with Sofi. He is teaching her to give him "high fives" or "cinque!" as he calls it. He also needs to work on training her to come when we call. She does not do this, but is a very smart dog. Now is the time to train her, and Roy gets out his clicker and treats, to get started.

February 3
Today is the feast day of San Biagio. Trained as a physician during the third century after Christ, Biagio was encouraged to go into the hills to treat the sick. Found in a cave surrounded by wild animals, where he was curing the animals around him, he was imprisoned. While in prison, he saved the life of a young boy who had a bone stuck in his throat. Biagio was beheaded and later sanctified.

He has become the patron saint of throats, and each February 3rd is celebrated in masses around the world where parishioners go to have their throats blessed. Since I woke with yet another migraine, I am hoping that San Biagio, or Saint Blaise as he is known in the U.S., can work miracles on migraines....We will go to mass this afternoon, and I email Don Francis in California to ask him if San Biagio was the first person to use the Heimlich Maneuver.

We have been invited to Aurora's in Orvieto for pranzo...all of us including Sofia. We go to her apartment in the town, and meet her two wonderful black cocker spaniels, one is blind and one almost deaf, both ten years old. We think this will be a real treat for Sofi, but she is a little afraid of them, and once they check her out they aren't very interested in her. So she hangs out with us while we eat and talk.

It looks as though Aurora will be getting a job with an important real estate company in the area. We think she'll do really well selling to English-speaking folks looking for property. She'd like to work with us, referring English-speaking people living in other countries to us who want help to get their newly-purchased properties ready to move into. We're enjoying working with Judith Ciani on her wonderful apartment in Amelia, and look forward to taking on some more projects.

Just in on email is a message from our pal, Bob Kalsey..."Enjoyed your blog this afternoon. Actually, there are no chalices at all in Da Vinci's "Last Supper." Maybe it was a dry town. There were just a few hunks of bread spread around the table and some mostly empty plates. I think they were still waiting for the waiter to take their order.

"There is another famous painting of the last supper in Galleria Borghese, at the Vatican in Rome which has only one chalice -- a glass one, actually, with a glass pitcher next to it. It is by Jacopo Bassano and is said to be the inspiration for Da Vinci's masterpiece. This earlier "Last Supper" was recently restored, revealing quite striking details. See the attached detail from that remarkable painting. Note also, that this painting was also of the scene "before" dinner; in the full version, which you can see at http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/ bassano/last-supper/ the tablecloth is very clean, nobody has yet touched (let alone broken) the bread, and they are about to have some hors d'oeuvres consisting of a sheep's head."

Bob's depiction of the Next To Last Supper....

When I email Bob that it's clear that Mary Magdalene was at the last supper, he sends such a wacky response that I have to include some of it here...

Bob writes, "Yes, Mary Magdalene definitely was at the last supper. In fact, she was

the one who made the reservations. She had a bad day on the street and she was not about to cook for Jesus and his buddies again, so she told him he should just take everybody out for the earlybird special at the local trattoria. They didn't take credit cards, but Judas said he had some cash, so it was "on him."

We return from Orvieto just in time for mass and to get blessed by Don Luca with crossed unlit candles at our throats, as it continues as the Feast day of San Biagio. With three masses in three days, we are really getting the words down....

Back at home, Stefano calls to tell us he will begin work on the chimney repair tomorrow. We have been using the fireplace every night, and so far nothing more has fallen down from the inside of the chimney. But it is only a matter of time, so we are relieved that he is ready to start. Outside, Roy works on the rose arch, and the roses are going to thrive, I am sure. Tomorrow I will work on it with him, weaving the branches in and out. I think it's just about time to cut back the weaker branches.

My latest migraine is gone, so I'm hoping today's blessing helped and that this string of headaches is over.

February 4
We have been using a little retractable garden barrier on the stairs to keep Sofi from running up and down. Stairs are not good for the backs of these little dogs. For two days in a row, she has nosed around the edge of the barrier, opening it just enough to wiggle through. Undaunted, she is now on my lap, causing me to hunt and peck while writing, holding her with my left arm. She is stares at the computer keys as they bounce up and down, then sighs and rests her long nose on the edge of the old wood table we use for a desk.

Stefano and Luca come, and it is time to begin the work on the chimney and the shoring up of the house. Stefano looks up the chimney and he and Roy decide that they'll go to Viterbo together tomorrow to purchase the chimney insert together. In the meantime, Luca will be digging into the walls, to prepare for the installation of huge steel beams.

Roy and Sofi and I drive to Bomarzo to talk with Virgilio about the design of the braces that will go on the outside of the house. Yes, outside. There is no alternative. We will see three braces on the front of the house. I want to be sure that they are not ugly, but the design Virgilio shows us is bruto. I tell him no, that there must be an alternative. We have brought a design taken from the base of the lights on either side of the front door. The design is a modified S shape. Virgilio tells us the "S" is not strong enough. He modifies it some and it looks a little better, so we ask him to make one for us to approve. In the meantime, I am sure that we have seen good looking ones, and am sure that we will come up with a workable option subito.

At home Roy calls Maurizio, to ask him to come to look at the work we are having done. We want him to design a modest pepperino header over the kitchen and living room (soon to be dining room) doors. He will come tomorrow morning. Roy and Stefano decide to go to visit him to talk about the structure, and come back to tell me that Maurizio acted strangely. Stefano is leery of him. Roy tells Stefano that Maurizio is brilliant, albeit eccentric. We trust his design sense. We cannot pay much, but think he will come up with a great solution tomorrow.

We have our lesson with Tiziano, and it is at his house. These lessons are always fun. We tell him about our visit to the Museo Civico in Viterbo, and he'd like to go there with us to practice his English. That's wonderful. There is so much more to learn about the Etruscan art, and he is so much fun. Roy wants to know why a little street in the centro storico is called Via del Ghetto....

Until about forty years ago, pigs and sheep were kept in the centro storico, in the first floors of some of the old houses. This little street was a place where the people threw, well, let's just say it smelled. I think that about the time the bridge was built over the Tiber in the early '60's, connecting Mugnano with civilization, the people of the village were told they had to get these animals out of their homes. So they put them in fields down below, and cleaned up the street. Via Del Ghetto became an alley with houses on either side. When viewing them recently, they looked as old as the oldest buildings. So at least the architecture outside is characteristic...

Back at home, we take down things from the walls and get paper thin plastic tarps out to cover everything on the ground floor. Tomorrow at 8AM the place will look like a war zone. I hope the weather is good. Then I can keep Sofi outside in the garden with me while I work on the roses.

February 5
We're up early, and out for our walk before the boys get here. Things are organized and put away, so well that Roy uses a plastic bottle that held some vino for cooking instead of the bottled water we drink to make coffee. When he pours it into the paper cups we will use today and takes a taste, he makes a face and we laugh, realizing at the same time what he has done. When he goes to Viterbo with Stefano, he can have caffé then.

Stefano and Roy leave for Viterbo, and I take Sofi outside to work on the roses. The windows are open and I can see a fine layer of dust wafting outside. When I go inside for a minute, Luca is on the ladder and we both laugh. I feel as if we are in Pompeii.

Roy and Stefano return, and they have had to order the parts for the fireplace. It will take a week. The doorbell rings and Roy goes down to speak with a man who has a notebook and wants to come in and give us a price to clean the house. Roy tells him no, we don't want any help. I am very suspicious. We don't let anyone we don't know on to our property. There are so many stories of "cons", that we aren't about to take a chance.

The day progresses, and Maurizio and his wife arrive. He makes a drawing for the headers we want made out of pepperino to be placed over the kitchen and dining room doors, and will get back to us in a few days with a proposed design. He can finish it in about three weeks.

Just before pranzo, Stefano and Luca stop working and start to clean things up, "for pranzo". How amazing. In the US this would not happen, but pranzo is the daily national holiday for all Italians. We tell him we will not eat at home, so not to worry, and he and Luca are on their way to their own pranzo.

Later in the day, the house really looks like Pompeii. A fine layer of dust covers everything everywhere. I try to keep Sofi with me, but when I come inside without her she cries. I suggest to Roy that he go to Virgilio with a design I found in a book last night for the tirante, the face plate to cover the iron cinch for the front of the house. He drives up to Bomarzo to meet with him and Virgilio has finished the mockup and first tirante for our approval. Roy brings it back. It is bruto. He will not fabricate the one I want. He tells Roy it is not strong enough.

At home, I am holding Sofi in my arms on the front terrace, and Luigini waves as she walks up the hill from feeding her ga